Dead Girls Don't Sing
by G13
Summary: S3 AU. Skank!Quinn tries too little or too hard. Brittany doesn't believe in unicorns anymore. Rachel's dreams are as dead as the world. Santana isn't anyone's hero, and she knows it. Together, they'll survive the end of the world. Or try to. Zombie Apocalypse. Faberrittana Friendship. Slow Faberry. Character Death.
1. Black

When she thought back on the first day, what she could remember most vividly was the white popcorn ceiling of her bedroom baring down oppressively, almost mockingly above her as she laid in bed on the third day of her senior year. The intense white ceiling that seemed to meld into the smooth white of the fancy crown molding that outlined her bedroom. Thankfully, the memory of the dead forms of her parents had mercifully blurred with time, only garish and exaggerated in her nightmares.

Quinn listlessly looked at the ceiling, trying to muster enough will get out of bed and do something. She needed to get up and do _something_. Read a book. Sketch. Hang out with her Skanks. Anything to get out of the house.

She could hear things breaking downstairs. Her parents were fighting. Again. Likely about Russell's little tattooed friend. Quinn had tried her best to stop caring about Russell when he demanded she leave his home over a year ago, and she certainly didn't care about his tattooed freak of a girlfriend or whatever the woman was. As far as Quinn was concerned, Judy Fabray had invited Russell back into the house, so her mom can deal with him on her own. Quinn wouldn't be comforting her mother, or trying to put the pieces back together of her family. The Fabray's were broken, and nothing Quinn could do would change that. The best Quinn could do was build her own family, and be better than her parents. Be greater.

Beth.

Her _daughter_.

Her perfect baby, the first piece to her puzzle, was here, right here in Lima, and Shelby Corcoran wouldn't let Quinn see her until Quinn went back to blonde hair, sun dresses, and headbands.

Shelby insisted that Quinn as she was; a pink haired skank who didn't give a damn, wasn't who Quinn was. And she wasn't someone that right now Shelby wanted around Beth.

As if Shelby knew Quinn. As if _anyone_ did.

Quinn wasn't that that girl. Hadn't ever actually been that girl, not really.

And for Shelby to just come into town, making demands on Quinn, just so Quinn could be allowed a few precious minutes with the child she had given birth to?

It made Quinn want to do something.

Eventually.

Right now it was all Quinn could do to get out of bed, even though according to the clock on her nightstand that, bleary eyed, and squinting because her contacts weren't in, it was nearly three pm. She was still in bed.

Day three of her senior year, and she was already skipping school. A small smirk played at her lips; she was pretty sure when she bothered to find her phone, she'd have a message or five from her fellow Skanks about that. She highly doubted any of them had skipped more than a class yet.

She had spent the summer getting away from who she had been trying to be. She had a henna tramp stamp, pink hair, and had even dated a forty year old skateboarder, breaking up with him only a few days ago. Joining the Skanks, a group of bad girls who weren't anything like the Cheerios or New Directions had been a good way to get away from herself; had been the best thing she could have done. The fact that it pissed off Russell, whom her mom had recently let move back in was just a bonus.

The Skanks were honest, if not outright blunt. They knew who they were, and more importantly, who they _weren't. _None of them were destined for Broadway, or being the first female President of the United States of America, or even much more then Lima's dinky community college with a slight chance of transferring to a third rate state college years from now. If at all.

They didn't give a crap what anyone else thought. Quinn still, even if she was careful not to show it, a little surprised they had so readily accepted her.

But maybe that was the thing about high school, with a little effort you could move almost seamlessly from a higher social group to a lower one, if you were willing to deal with the consequences. Dye your hair pink, quitting the trophy winning cheerleading squad, and ditching your best friends showed a certain commitment to not caring what anyone else thought. Maybe they had liked that.

Or maybe it amused them to see a former head cheerleader in their midst.

Whatever, it didn't matter now. The Skanks were the type of girls that, once you earned their friendship, once you _proved_ you could handle hanging out with them, that you could keep their secrets they were loyal in their own way. They might make out with your boyfriend, but only to prove to you that he was a cheating ass and you deserved better. It would take a lot for them to give up on her. She liked that about them.

She also liked that being a skank meant you could do whatever the hell you wanted. If you got caught, you dealt with the consequences without whining, because you probably got what you deserved anyway.

Quinn stared at the blurry pint of half melted Ben &amp; Jerry's cookie dough ice-cream on her dresser she had woken up and grabbed out of the freezer this morning. Usually a pint of ice-cream was a rare treat she always ate quickly, fearful that someone would come in and find her huddled over the carton, spoon gripped tightly, shoveling the creamy confection into her mouth. Later, she'd frantically add miles to her morning run to make up for it, even as she could feel the calories going to her thighs and stomach. But today she hadn't even been bothered to finish the pint, just curled up and went back to sleep after a few bites.

But now, Quinn Fabray just didn't care about being the best, being good enough, about stepping out of her sister's perfect shadow. That wasn't who she was anymore. She still cared about the weight; she would never let herself get fat again. _Never_. And she could muster up caring about her friends, most days. She even usually replied to Brittany and Santana's texts, even though she had told them they'd grown apart. She hadn't meant it, not really.

Santana was still reeling from being kicked out of glee club, and while she wasn't admitting it, she was moping. Moping and a little pissed at Quinn. Mercedes had joined Shelby's still un-named glee group, all while being a major bitch about the New Directions if Santana's texts were any indication.

Brittany was…Brittany. Last time Quinn had spoke to her, Brittany had been talking about trying to lure a leprechaun to her house.

She wiggled around, pulling her flannel pajama bottoms up, and her tank top down. She lay for a moment, her limbs askew, now glaring at the ceiling as her father's bellow of anger came up from the first floor of the house. Shifting, she sniffed her armpit, and recoiled away, the heavy smell of her body odor seemed to linger in her nose.

With a heavy sigh, she rolled lazily out of her bed, righting her clothes again. Stretching, she blinked, quickly deciding against putting her contacts in, and made her way downstairs to get her phone and iPod out of next year's dark pink Volkswagen Bug her father had gifted her when he had returned home in all his glory.

Her parents were in the dining room, and Quinn couldn't bring herself to look at them with the knowledge that they had been fighting, _again._ The fruit basket upside down on the floor, banana's fallen around it, made it evident that their fight had started in the kitchen.

A burning anger at her mother went through her, and not for the first time, she wondered what had made Judy Fabray take back her father. Loneliness? Love? The alcohol that never left Judy's grasping hand?

Her bare feet felt cold on the cement of the garage bringing her to the present. Her bug was next to her mother's Ford Escape Hybrid, also a 2012 and a gift from Russell. Quinn felt annoyed at herself for the shot of satisfaction that went through her when she noticed that her mom had remembered to both close the doors, and turn off the headlights. Usually her mom was so tipsy she didn't do both.

Opening her driver side door, she leaned in and grabbed her iPod and phone from the front seat. Shaking her head at her own stupidity for forgetting them yesterday, and her own laziness for not getting out of bed and getting it until now, she wrapped the headphones cord around the iPod, then she clutched both in her hand. Sparing a look inside the rest of her car, and not finding anything else she wanted to bring with her, she stepped outside the car, and closed the door.

She walked to the wall where a set of large shelves were sitting, that were used to store items that were mostly overflow from the pantry. She grabbed a bottle of water from the open flat sitting on top of four unopened flats on the bottom shelf, before turning and leaving the garage. Her stomach growled. She was used to that, all current and former Cheerios were, but figured she may as well eat a snack before her shower.

Stepping into the kitchen and closing the door behind her, she put the water on the counter and opened the fridge. Yawning, she closed it and reluctantly turned toward the dining room.

"Mom, do we have any-" The words stopped in her throat. "Mom?" She whispered finally, forcing the word out as she stared at her parents, at the sight in front of her. She had expected them to be pretending, as they usually did, that they hadn't just had a fight. Pretending that everything was perfect and wonderful, that they were one big happy family.

Her mother looked puffy and bloated, redness like a bad sunburn covered her body. One sleeve of the loose wool cardigan her mother wore was torn off, showing Quinn a rancid looking bite mark that was almost delicate on her mother's arm, if not for the dark red, almost blackish thick liquid seeping from it. Broad lines of black pus leaked a trail to the dining room floor, mingling with the dark red, almost blackish thick liquid that seeped from parts of the wound.

A dark red liquid oozed from her mother's eyes, a mockery of tears as her mom clutched one of her father's legs, gnawing on it like a dog with a bone. Bright red blood obscenely covered the older woman's chin and lower face, dripping down the front of the wool cardigan. Against her will, her mother's voice inside her head snipped that it would need to a long soak in cold water to get the stain out.

Even subjected to zombie video games and movies from Puck, Finn and Sam when she was dating them, the occasional horror movie marathon with Santana &amp; Britt, and Coach's ridged End of the World training, Quinn just stood there in shock.

"Mom, stop!" She finally interrupted the sound of her mother's feast with a frantic shout. Dazedly, she thought about band aids and 911, as she stepped forward towards her parents, to help by doing what, she wasn't sure.

Her mom, surprisingly, did stop. She stared at Quinn for a moment, before dropping her husband's leg. With a growl, she stood up wobbly, before half lunging at Quinn, the blood on her face flinging droplets around.

Quinn stood there, "Mom?" she asked. Realization at the sight came to Quinn, and zombie movie and games finally caught up with her. This was not her mother anymore. With a sob, Quinn turned and ran as fast as she could up the stairs and into her father's office. Closing the door behind her, she turned the lock, well aware that what remained of her mother was fast behind her. She hurriedly tossed her phone and iPod on her dad's solid oak desk, then shoved the desk against the door, grunting with the effort. Just in case, she grabbed a golf club from the bag resting in the corner.

Her relationship with God was even worse than her relationship with her parents, but as she entered the code to her dad's safe she still prayed she wouldn't have to club to death that thing wearing her mother's face.

It was wrong. Cursing, she realized he must have changed it. As the growls, moans, and thuds against the door continued, she tried every combination she could think of. Their wedding anniversary, everyone's birthdays, her sister's wedding date, the date of his biggest business deal, the date her mom let him move back in. Finally, as she heard the wood in the door crack, as her mother relentlessly threw her body against it, in frustration she entered "123456".

With a click, the safe door popped open. Holding her breath, she carefully grabbed the sixteen shot Glock 22 her dad kept, along with the opened box of bullets that sat in front of the eight boxes of unopened ammo. Carefully, she found it was loaded, so releasing the safety; she pointed the gun at the door.

Her mother's walking corpse burst into the room. She was held up long enough by Russell's desk that Quinn, tears in her eyes, fired three times, one hit her mother in the head, almost directly between her eyes, and the other's hit the door jam and wall.

Sagging against the wall, she slid down until she was sitting on the floor. Numbly, Quinn sat there, staring at her mother's corpse, tears streaming down her eyes.

Was this her punishment? She had premarital sex with her boyfriend's best friend, gotten pregnant, and then given the baby away when she had known in her heart she should have kept her. That her daughter had been her responsibility. Then she had cheated on a boyfriend, _again_. Then during the summer she had dated a forty year old skateboarder and had even more premarital sex. Then she had made out with another girl. And enjoyed it.

She was an awful friend, girlfriend, person and _mother._ This had to be God's way of punishing her, and others like her, wasn't it?

She sat there, sobbing. Crying like she hadn't cried since she was ten and found out her favorite pair of grandparents had died in a car crash. Or the time she was six and her puppy had run away.

Her angrily growling stomach brought her out of her sobbing. She needed to eat something, and then…she took several deep breaths, trying to think. But no thoughts would come to her, just the fact that her mother was dead. Her mother was dead and gone and it hadn't been the booze her mother had loved more then all of them. It hadn't been the booze, it had been _Quinn_ and a rancid bite mark.

She choked out another sob, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall, trying to take deep breaths to get a hold of herself.

She needed to remember Coach Sue's mandatory End of World Training. The woman had insisted that every head of the Cheerios had gone through it; Quinn had distinctly remembered thinking Coach Sylvester was full of shit, but hadn't argued much when the woman had demanded three weeks of Quinn's summer for the training. She had forced Quinn to run more than Quinn usually did, to practice shooting, to practice with a bow and arrow, to learn all sorts of things Quinn was sure she'd never, ever have to use. Most of it she had forgotten by now, but just focusing on Coach Sue's frowning face helped calm her down a little.

Santana had mocked Quinn endlessly about all the fun summer times Quinn was missing out on. Quinn's lip curled up in a snarl, and she barked out a short, bitter laugh. Who the hell would have thought that Coach Sue had been _right?_

Her phone rang.

Furrowing her brows, she was confused for a moment at the utterly normal sound of a phone ringing, before realizing that she had a call that she should answer.

Carefully, she stood up, trying not to look at her mother's body as she went to the desk, and picked up her phone.

Silently, she hit answer and vaguely she recognized the voice of the forty year old skateboarder she had only broken up with a week ago.

"Quinn, I'm not forty. I mean, I know everyone looks ancient to teenagers, but damn," he said, and she realized she must have said that out loud. "I'm just calling to see if you're okay…like I know you broke up with me, but I really care about you, I think we had a connection. If you don't want to evacuate with your parents, you'll be eighteen in a few months, you can come with me-"

She ended the call silently. At the moment, she couldn't even remember his name, or what had drawn her to him. What she could summon up about him a vague memory of herself inhaling his masculine scent as she laid on her back in the rear of his mom's SUV, staring out the window at the stars as she pretended to enjoy herself. As she tried desperately to convince herself that this was right, that she was enjoying coupling with this man, that she wouldn't feel guilty for having sex out of wedlock, that she wouldn't be lying through her teeth when she told him afterwards she wanted to do it again as soon as he was ready. He didn't matter. What they had, whatever it had been, didn't matter either.

She stared at her phone for a moment, before shoving it and her iPod in the pocket of her pajama bottoms. She picked up the gun from where it had slipped from her hands, the cold weight of it bringing the deep need everyone had inside of them to ensure their own safety -the lizard brain left over from our ancestors, to the forefront of her thoughts. She needed to get her things, and _leave. _

Then she'd…she'd do what, exactly?

If the world was ending, she didn't want to spend it with Coach Sylvester and whatever Cheerios the woman had collected. That was assuming her former cheerleading coach accepted her into the underground bunker she was no doubt hiding at, let alone if Quinn could remember the location she had only half heartedly memorized.

She….she'd figure it out after she showered and got dressed and packed a bag.

She put the opened box of bullets in her other pajama pocket, then stepped into the hallway and down the stairs lightly, holding the gun shakily in both hands.

The crashing noise of something falling downstairs reminded Quinn she had two parents. She'd tried so hard to stop loving her father, once he'd made it clear he didn't love her, not enough to stand by her when things got tough. Not enough to stop seeing his tattooed freak, even when they were supposed to be putting the past behind them, when they were supposed to be a family again.

He was still her father, her dad; still the man that would read her bed time stories, still the man that would let her stay up late watching old black and white westerns, still the man that would always put a Band-Aid on her after her sister had shoved her down.

He hadn't done any of that in a long long while, she knew. He had disappointed her when she needed him most, had _betrayed_ her.

But the little girl was inside of her…the little Lucy Quinn who thought her parents were heroes, that they could keep the monsters away. Lil' Lucy Quinn was still a part of her, and she wanted to go downstairs and find her dad was somehow okay.

Licking her lips, she took a deep breath as tears pushed their way down her cheeks. She crept through the hall, dreading what she would find with each step she forced herself forward.

Taking another deep breath, she stepped into the kitchen and stared at the dining room.

Her father looked bloated, his sickly red rashy looking skin contrasted with the blackish liquid running from his eyes.

He growled when he saw her, and tried to stand up. His ruined leg stopped him from doing more than stumbling up weakly, then falling forward.

She watched him do this over and over, unable to bring herself to do more than stare at what her father had been reduced to. Her mother had saved her, some small part of Quinn realized dimly. If it had been her father's arm, instead of leg...

Finally, unable to take it anymore, she aimed, then looked away as she fired the rest of the bullets in the gun at her father. When the gun clicked empty, she looked at him. All she saw was the pile of unrecognizable mush that was her father's head.

She shouldn't have looked, she realized, as she leaned over, the gun plummeting from her hands as she started to puke.

She threw up, hunched over on her hands and knees, until there was nothing but bile coming up. The tears were streaming freely down her face when she finally stopped, and, drained, she stood up.

She wanted to go back upstairs to her room, to crawl into bed and sleep until she woke up from this nightmare.

Robotically, she picked up the gun, turned from what remained of her father, and went upstairs.

When she was in her room, she tossed the gun on her bed, and stripped her clothes off. Leaving them in an untidy pile, she made her way into her ensuite bathroom, when she immediately went to the shower and cranked the water on, then stepped in.

She winched as the icy water hit her back, but she quickly felt a little more calmer, a little more in control.

Resisting her urge to turn the warm water on, she quickly scrubbed and washed up.

Alert now, she stepped out, and stood dripping in front of the counter to brush her teeth. Leaving the bathroom, she went back into her bedroom, and quickly dried off enough to pull on a pair of jeans, t-shirt, a long sleeve over shirt, sports bra, and a pair of knee length motorcycle boots over thick socks. She finished by putting on a leather jacket, then sat on her bed just staring at the blind covered window, before moving her gaze around her bedroom.

Finally, she dug her phone and iPod from her pajama bottoms. She tossed her iPod on her bed, then opened up her phone, and ignoring her voice mail and texts, scrolled through her contact list till she found Mack's name.

It rang and rang, until finally, Mack answered.

"What?"

Quinn's throat felt dry, before she could bring herself to say anything, Mack added, "Q, if this is a tearful call to me saying you're dying I'm going to kick your ass."

Quinn whispered, "No. My...parents..."

A moment of silence, then, "Shit. Sorry. I know that…well…look, I'm sorry Q. "

Not wanting to think about it, Quinn licked her lips, then said, "What'd I miss at school?"

"Nothing much. Figgin's announced we'd be let out a few hours early, and for everyone to go straight home, there was an emergency. Figured it must have been some shit going down because Ronnie didn't show up to school, texted me saying her family was going to her uncle's place this morning. Probably texted you to."

"I haven't even looked at my messages yet."

Mack snorted, "Figured that, since I sent you a shitload of texts. Ron said she'd try to talk her family into letting us join them, if shits really hitting the fan, but not to hold our breaths."

"And Sheila?"

"Yeah, texted me after I dropped her off. Had Mother's car today, thank fuck. All foster parents in the area were ordered to take their kids and go to Wright Patterson."

"So it's not just Lima?"

"No. It's worldwide. No one knows what the fuck. They're saying either stay in your house, go to an evacuation center, or if shit's really screwed up, nearest military base."

"What are you going to do Mack?"

"I'm….they want to go to Wright Patterson. I don't know if I can handle being stuck with them in the car, then at a refugee camp for who knows how long while there's fucking zombies walking around," Mack paused, then spat out, "Q, I was so close to getting away from them forever except for a monthly phone call and a day trip for Christmas, then this fucking happens."

"Just…whatever you do, stay safe Mack, okay?"

"If I ditch them…I'll be fine. Got a crowbar, nice and silent."

"Silent?"

"Yeah. They're attracted to sound Q. Movies got that right, at least."

Quinn frowned, remembering the gun, "I had to fire my dad's Glock, Mack."

"Pack your crap, and get out of there Q. I don't know how bad your neighborhood is, but do it quick. Alright?" Quinn heard voices in the background, then Mack added, "Shit, I've got to go. Check your messages. Keep your phone on you, alright? Once I decide what I'm doing, I'll text you. If I leave them...we can meet up, okay?"

"Yeah. You stay safe too Mack." Quinn, said, then hung up almost in tune with Mack hanging up.

World wide_. Zombies,_ worldwide. Dumbly, she stared at her phone, even knowing that she should have packed up and be on her way out by now. She didn't know what was outside her house, and she was scared to look out the window.

Her phone's vibration brought her out of her stupor. Hesitantly, she checked it.

It was a text from Puck. "**Q, r u ok? Get supplies m RS32. Follow Plan. Stay safe. Pass along**"

Last year the male members of the Glee club (minus Kurt, who had been thoroughly uninterested,) after Puck and Finn spent a month watching nothing but end of the world movies came up with an emergency plan. They had called a meeting of the glee club, sans Mr. Schue.

The boys sans Kurt, had spent the entire time arguing about the possibility of a super volcano after Puck had jotted down a list which was basically "get supplies, meet at rest stop out of town, go to Jones's cabin, be awesome, repopulate world", while Rachel took it upon herself add notes, of which Quinn could only remember was something about a phone tree, and ensuring their families joined them.

The battered paper was likely still up in the choir room. She remembered Coach Sue's mocking laughter upon reading it once.

Quinn bit her lip, conflicted. On one hand, she wasn't apart of Glee anymore. On the other, where else could she go?

Pulse pounding, she sent a half hearted message to every New Direction member whose number she still hadn't deleted from her phone.

Then she sent a message to Mack, letting her know. Anyone who had a problem with that would just have to deal with it. Frowning, she sent one to Sheila and Ronnie too, just in case.

She saw she had a few voice mails, and some texts, but those could wait.

Mechanically, she went to her closet, where she pulled out her Cheerio duffel bag from where it was stuffed in the back, and quickly she packed it with clothes, tying two pairs of running shoes, and a pair of hiking boots to the handle by their laces.

Sitting it down beside her closed bedroom door, and found her favorite backpack from back when she was still Lucy. She shook the dust out of the battered large multi-compartment pink backpack, and then put her toiletries, contacts and solution in.

She quickly returned to her dad's office, where the safe was still opened, and grabbed the eight boxes of unopened bullets, shoulder holster (which she resized to fit her and put it on, her jacket covering it completely) and grabbing a manila envelope, she put inside it the important papers inside such as her birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of twenty dollar bills her dad kept in there for emergencies.

Going back to her room, she carefully picked out a family photograph of her parents, sister and her from around freshman year, a picture of her sister's family from last Christmas, a photograph from New York last year of her, Britney, and Santana, a group shot of the New Directions from Sophomore year, as well as a group shot of the Cheerios from last year, with Coach Sylvester standing next to them looking stern but proud.

She carefully stacked them on her bed, then reached over and opened her nightstand drawer, where in the very back was a photograph of her, looking awful from just giving birth, holding a minutes old Beth. She slid it and the other photographs into the envelope along with from her purse, her driver's license. She grabbed the chap stick from her purse and tossed it into her backpack along with her drawing supplies, iPod and laptop with their cases, their chargers, her phone, and its charger. She took a moment to reload the gun, then put it in the holster, frowning at the unfamiliar feeling.

She stood up and walked to her dresser, where she grabbed her favorite cross necklace and put it on under her t-shirt. She grabbed her Swiss army knife and tossed it into the front pocket of her backpack, where she also after a moment's hesitation, tossed in the two pairs of glasses and subscription sun glasses, Coach Sue's voice in her head pointing out that her contacts and solution would only last so long.

Quinn quietly went downstairs, her steps echoing through the empty house. Her mom's purse was sitting on the kitchen counter, and without looking at the dining room she dug around it until she found her mom's car keys.

Then she forced herself to drink the rest of the cranberry juice that was in the fridge, straight out of the carton, and eat a heaping plate of food left over from last night's dinner. She finished, barely able to choke the food down, then stared at the cupboards. Mechanically, she hastily shoved canned goods, a few things from the pantry and a few unopened bottles of booze from the alcohol cabinet into reusable grocery bags. It took her three trips to lug them into the garage and shove them into the back of the SUV.

She carefully didn't look at the dining room not once.

On her final trip from the kitchen to the garage, she turned to the families' rarely used camping supplies, stored right there. They had been expensive and high quality when they were new.

Once upon a time, when she was still known as Lucy her dad and she had been closer, and he had taken her hunting, taught her to shoot a gun, and they had gone camping as a family.

_"Alright Lucy Q, take a deep breath," her father whispered into her ear._

_She clutched the hunting rifle tightly, her chubby fingers gripping the cold metal so hard the tips were white._

_On her other side, Frannie stood, her chair forgotten as she gazed at the buck Lucy aimed at with an anticipatory look on her face. The hunting blind they were huddled in felt suddenly too hot to Lucy Quinn, her sister's slim presence making the young girl feel overwhelmed and inadequate._

_Frannie never went with them on their hunting trips away from the camp site, and while their father had been reluctant for Frannie to join them; Lucy Quinn had been thrilled her older sister came with them even if her presence right now was feeling her with the suffocating feeling that Lucy Quinn Fabray was lacking in everything that mattered, everything that Francine Rose Fabray had._

_She had happily assumed that Frannie would be firing the gun today; partly because Lucy Quinn got to do it all the time when her family went on twice monthly camping trips during hunting season, but mostly the younger girl just assumed her older sister would fire every shot perfectly, and take down the biggest, best buck making their father proud and assuring that they had plenty of venison in the freezer._

_But a smiling Frannie had just cooed that it Lucy's job to kill it, she'd help skin and cook it. They were a team._

_Their father had a look on his face that an almost twelve year old Lucy couldn't decipher._

_Frowning, she exhaled slowly, then fired. The rifle jolted, and as she felt seed of the bruise she was going to have blossom to life, the buck fell seemingly in slow motion to Lucy Quinn. She gazed at it, awe struck. That was the first time, after all the trips they've made, that she'd ever managed to kill one. Frannie was good luck, and she gave a thrilled grin to her sister, before gazing at the body of the buck. Lucy felt a little bad for him._

_"Way to go Quinnie!" Frannie cheered exaggeratedly, almost mockingly, her body coiled with energy that seemed to make her skin bounce, "Didn't Quinnie do a good job? It went down without any suffering, which is the goal when hunting, isn't it? We'll be eating venison until next year, pops!" She finished with a flourish, popping her p's._

_Their father looked at Frannie emotionless, then his face morphed in to a smile as he looked down at down at Lucy Quinn, "You did great honey."_

_"I think Quinnie should help butcher it too! It's a hunter's job, besides making sure the creature doesn't suffer, isn't it dad?" Frannie smirked at their father, then held out a hand to Lucy Quinn. "Come on Quinnie, we'll get it up in the tree and you can show me how well dad's taught you to bleed and gut it. Won't that be fun!" She chirped._

_Lucy wrinkled her nose, " I don't think I'll be good at it Frannie. I think that's Dad's job anyway?"_

_"Maybe. If you can't, then I will. It's not hard, really. Did you know that there was a countess that bathed in blood?" Frannie said conversationally as they climbed down the hunting blinds rope ladder. Lucy clutched each rung tentatively, following where her older sister placed her hands and feet exactly._

_When the three of them were down and surrounding the fallen deer, Frannie had grinned and shook her head in disapointment. "You didn't kill it Lucy Quinn," she whispered, looking at Quinn sadly. Frannie reached down to the large hunting knife strapped to her thigh, and pushed it against the deer's throat. The animal seemed to stare at Quinn as her sister slid the knife along his throat._

_Lucy Quinn Fabray watched her sister stare at the waterfall of blood, a niggling sensation of a memory trying to force it's way to the forefront of her thoughts. Next to them, their father stood stone faced and silent. She felt ashamed of herself; she hadn't killed it, it was suffering. No wonder her dad was silent. Good thing Frannie had been here, to clean up after her mess._

That had been the last time they'd gone camping or hunting. Sometimes Quinn had wondered if that would have been the case if she had just killed the deer cleanly.

Now it was going to be survival. Wishing her dad still had the hunting rifles, Quinn set about rifling thought the camping stuff.

The machete and it's tactical sheath she strapped onto her thigh immediately.

Once she had everything shoved into the back of the SUV, or up front waiting to be put in her backpack, she ran upstairs and grabbed her duffel bag, and backpack.

She tossed them into the backseat, then flopped down into the driver seat. Numbly, Quinn put on her seat belt, and started the car. She hit the button to open the garage door. Immediately, growling zombies stumbled into the garage and surrounded her car, smacking it and pressing their faces against the windows, leaving streaked and smudged trails of black goo and blood.

Disgust went through her, and she wanted to throw up again. Even with the windows rolled up, she could smell the sickly smell of death and gore and _rotting._ She jammed her foot on the gas pedal. The SUV bounced and there was a terrible squishing sound as she ran over the ones that were behind the car.

It was mayhem outside.

She sat there in the SUV, in the middle of the street they had lived in; that her parents had died on, and just stared. Zombies started for her, but she ignored them as she looked. Dimly, she realized she had forgotten to actually put her contacts in, so everything had a hazy, blurry unreal quality to it.

A crowd of those things were rushing towards her house to join the one's scrambling out of the garage after the SUV. More were ambling along the front yards like they were on their way to a Sunday picnic.

As she saw Mrs. And Dr. Johnson, recognizable even with their bloated rashy bodies, her neighbors three houses down feasting on what was likely another neighbor, Quinn wondered just how in the hell she had managed to last this long, in total ignorance of the situation, just in her bed sleeping, utterly unscathed.

She swallowed thickly, thinking of her parent's bodies, her father's face in unrecognizable mush, and realized she wasn't unscathed. Not at all.

Mrs. Hall, their neighbor across the road screamed at Quinn from an upper story window, leaning out the window and waving her arms around. Quinn felt like she was a million miles away from her body as she looked at the woman desperately trying to get Quinn's attention, for Quinn to help her. Quinn's eyes trailed down from Mrs. Hall to the zombies gathered around the front door.

They were all small, and it took Quinn a moment to realize that they were Mary Hall, Mrs. Hall's eight year old daughter, and what was probably her friends. It was hard to tell, at first, because at this distance, and without Quinn's contacts, they looked alike, a vague impression of slightly puffy, child sized heavily sun burned blurs with trails of black tears down their faces.

Quinn used to babysit Mary. Before Mrs. Hall decided Quinn wasn't a good influence because of Beth.

Beth.

A thought came to her, unbidden and sudden.

What if Shelby had been bit? What if there was a zombie in Shelby's condo, _right now, _and it was busy eating Shelby while Beth cried in her high chair? What if it ate Beth after it was done with Shelby…or, worse, what if it just left, leaving Beth to a slow death of dehydration and starvation?

Blinking back tears, Quinn just knew that she was Beth's _mother,_ and it was up to _her_ to save Beth. Shelby couldn't, she didn't have what it takes to be a mother, and she had given her own baby up for goodness sakes, and wanted nothing to do with Rachel when she found her, even though Rachel Barry was amazing. _Nothing._ She wouldn't have the drive to protect Beth, like Quinn would, because _Quinn _was Beth's real mother, something Shelby would _never _be, no matter what.

Making up her mind, she shoved the SUV into drive, and floored it.

She screeched across the curb, rolling right through Mrs. Hall's prized rose bushes, and the pristine green lawn. She parked under the window that Mrs. Hall was hanging out of. Quinn unbuckled her seat belt, and scooted across the seat. She opened the door, and poked her head out up to Mrs. Hall. The woman had an almost comical look of outrage on her face as she stared at the flattened rose bushes.

"Mrs. Hall! Jump on the roof!" Quinn looked at the group of small children zombies heading towards the vehicle, little Mary leading the way and added, "Now!" The SUV was tall, it wouldn't be that far.

Mrs. Hall took what felt like an eternity to decide, before a thumping noise of the woman landing from the four foot jump heavily hit the roof of the SUV. Quinn jumped at the sound, but was already scooting back into the driver's seat as Mrs. Hall's panty hose clad feet, followed by the rest of the woman's portly body jumped into the space between the SUV and the house.

Mary and her friends, by now were at the front of the SUV. Blood dripped from their faces, mingling with the black goo coming from their eyes.

Quinn was reaching for the gun when the door slammed closed.

"We need to go to the hospital!" Mrs. Hall shrieked, holding her purse and high heels in one hand, the other she clutched desperately at Quinn with.

Quinn instinctively shoved Mrs. Halls hand away, then snapped, "Were you bit?"

Mrs. Hall looked at Quinn like Quinn was an idiot. It was a look Quinn had seen often from the woman; Mrs. Hall was one of those people who pitied everyone else for not being as smart as she viewed herself.

"Noooo," Mrs. Hall said, "_Mary_ is ill. _I_ am well. We need to get her to a hospital. I left messages for her friend's parents, they should be here soon. Right now we need to concentrate on Mary. My baby is delicate." She finished primly, then reached down and pulling her red soled high heels on.

"She's dead," Quinn said bluntly, putting the car in reverse, "And she wants to eat our brains. Or whatever." Even in the state she was in, Quinn took a small amount of grim satisfaction in the sour look on Mrs. Hall's face when Quinn ran down the remaining rose bushes, nicking the cutesy mailbox for good measure.

She was barely on the road when Mrs. Hall started to say "Stop! Lucy Quinn Fabray, when I tell your parents-"

"They're also dead," Quinn whispered, as she stopped the car. Mary and her friends, and the zombies from around Quinn's were converging towards them at a steady pace that made Quinn grit her teeth.

"Well, I'm sorry about that," Mrs. Hall said softly, then added normally, "But that's no excuse to be…Well, my car's right there, I'll take Mary to the hospital _myself_."

Quinn wanted to get to Beth, to assure herself that her baby was okay. She wanted to be _gone_ ten minutes ago. But if Mrs. Hall got out of the car, nothing good would happen. As it was the…zombies were at the back bumper and slowly but surely heading for the front. Some of them were faster than others, even if none of them were really that fast. Quinn knew she could out run them easily; plump Mrs. Hall, in the tall skinny high heels she favored? No chance.

"Mrs. Hall…Mary's _dead,_ the hospital isn't going to be able to help her. I-" Quinn said sharply, before she was cut off as Mrs. Hall opened the car door, stood up, and closed it without a word to Quinn, just a foul look that let Quinn know that Mrs. Hall didn't think much of her.

Quinn could only watch as Mary rushed towards her mother, followed by her friends, (the children zombies were definitely faster than the rest in the neighborhood) and bit a chunk out of the woman's arm. Mrs. Hall started trying to fend off her daughter with her purse, tottering precariously on her too tall high heels, mouthing something to her daughter as the rest of the zombies surrounded her. Finally, moments later Mrs. Hall shouted desperately, "Quinn Fabray, _help_ me!" as the zombies started reaching for her.

Quinn just looked at the woman blankly, squinting as she stared at the bite mark on the woman's arm. If the woman had only _listened_ to Quinn.

It took Quinn a millisecond to decide; there was a chance that bites weren't fatal, this wasn't a zombie movie. But Mrs. Hall was in the middle of a dozen zombies; Quinn didn't think she could take the chance to rescue the woman, not without getting bit or scratched or just plain hurt herself.

Quinn took a deep breath, then looked away from her neighbor, putting her out of her mind. She shot a quick glance down to the dashboard, at the clock saying it was only 3:33, before looking at the road as she hit the gas again, Mrs. Hall's screams lingering in her ears even blocks away.

* * *

It was almost, according to her GPS in her phone, and assuming the directions to Shelby's Puck had hopefully texted her a few days ago were correct, a four mile trip. A ten minute drive, tops.

It took forty minutes.

As she headed south from her neighborhood, the streets seemed to clear up of zombies, going from the chaos outside her front door to just an unsettling quiet, with the occasional zombie stumbling forward after whoever had caught it's attention.

Not even the birds were chirping. Even the people Quinn saw were quiet, looking at Quinn with furtive looks, before dismissing her as not important to them

There were cars everywhere. Quinn didn't even realize that there was so many cars in Lima.

At first, it was crashed vehicles. Then she found herself driving carefully around cars that people parked in the middle of the road, people uncaring about other's trying to drive down the road, solely concerned with crowding into Lima's stores and churches. Finally, it was just a gridlock of traffic from people on their way out of town clogging up the roads, making moving forward impossible. Quinn had to turn around and backtrack to get away from that twice.

It didn't matter. She only had eyes for the road. Every foot, every heartbeat, it was one step closer to Beth.

_Beth._

She had to keep looking at her phone, at the text Puck had sent her days ago, to reassure herself while she kept repeating to herself that Beth was there. Beth was okay. Over and over again.

She _had_ to be. Desperation to see her baby, to make sure her daughter was safe clawed at Quinn, it felt like she was being torn up in strips from the inside out.

When her GPS squeaked happily that she arrived at her destination, Quinn brought the car up onto the sidewalk, and parked directly in front of the front doors. The two seconds she had to take to unbuckle her seat belt, open the door, and shove her phone into a pocket was two seconds too long. She left the car door open as she rushed out, barely managing to take the car keys with her. In the door way to the lobby, she rushed through the lobby, which only had mailboxes in it, and up the stairs, not even giving the elevator a glance.

She jugged up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor. She was breathing heavier then she would have been if she was still a Cheerio; her morning jogs weren't a replacement for Coach Sylvester's workouts. She opened the door into the hallway in a charge, slamming it open.

She was going to see her daughter. Her baby. She was going to see her child, her perfect child and then...

She stopped short in the hall, as the door slammed its self shut, the sound echoing through the empty hall.

And what? Shelby would take Beth, and leave Quinn to her own devices.

Maybe…maybe Shelby would go with Quinn, to the Jones's cabin.

A little blossom of hope bloomed in Quinn's chest.

Yes….Shelby would go with Quinn, with the New Directions, Quinn could keep Beth safe. She could be with Beth all the time, she could watch Beth grow up. It'd almost be like Quinn hadn't made the biggest mistake in her life, in giving her baby up. It was a second chance…maybe that's what was going on, some sort of world cleanse. A chance to start anew.

Quinn, feeling both relived that Shelby's neighborhood was nearly empty of both people and those things, and now with a renewed sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, things would work out, stood in front of Shelby's door.

She took a deep breath, patted her hair down, and zipped up her coat, then knocked loudly on Shelby's door.

Shelby opened the door slowly, the chain on it. She looked relieved, and tired as she saw Quinn, her eyes lingering on Quinn's pink hair, "Oh Quinn, it's you, just a second." And closed and unlatched the door, quickly ushering Quinn in, she stuck her head out to look in the hallway, before pulling it back in, and relocking the door. "I thought you were Mrs. Smith, trying to get me to go to church with her and her family. I tried telling her that the news said to go to a military base or one of the evacuation centers, but she insisted church -_her_ church, would be better. " Shelby managed a smile for Quinn, but it wasn't reaching her eyes.

"I came to check on Beth...and you, of course. I keeping imagining a zombie in here eating you, while Beth cried in her highchair, and then it just left, leaving her to starve to death and- " Quinn choked up, "I just had to make sure, I couldn't leave Lima without making sure."

Shelby's shoulders relaxed a little, losing only some of the taut line of stress. "We're okay; it's not so bad here. I'm sure it helps that half my neighbors have left already." Shelby smiled, "if you help me finish packing, we can leave earlier, and hopefully avoid some traffic out of Lima. The News said to evacuate to the nearest military base, I thought about going to Wright Patterson, since it's the biggest, but the roads are probably going to be horrible, so the Coast Guard I.S. in Cleveland is probably a better choice since its closest, plus there's a chance that we'll be out on sea, that has to be safer…" Shelby trailed off, and went into her bedroom, clutching a tube of toothpaste she had clearly been in the middle of packing when Quinn had knocked.

Quinn followed her through the living room, where a car seat, stuffed diaper bag, and piles of other things sat. She stopped when she saw Beth sleeping in the middle of Shelby's bed. Quinn's heart slowed down as she exhaled at the sight of Beth. She hadn't even realized how fast it had been beating or that she was holding her breath. This was her baby, her daughter. She was safe, she was right _here._ Tears pooled in Quinn's eyes, and she blinked them away as she wondered how much better her life would have been had she done what she wouldn't admit to herself that she had wanted to do, and not given her baby away.

Mutely Quinn was aware that Shelby was finishing packing her suitcase, and that Beth's things in the living room far outnumbered Shelby's single suitcase and traveling case Shelby was zipping up, but it felt like Shelby was miles away from Quinn and Beth.

She kept staring at Beth, hardly believing her eyes, until Shelby made a polite throat clearing noise in the doorway of her bedroom to catch Quinn's attention.

She wordlessly followed Shelby into the kitchen, where several empty boxes awaited.

"I figured I'll get the pantry boxed up, take it down to the SUV, take my luggage, take Beth's things, and then Beth, but perhaps you can help me Quinn? It'll be quicker if you do."

"You can't."

"Can't what, Quinn? I don't think having extra food beyond what the military will provide can hurt, and-"

"Can't take Beth to a military base."

Shelby stood still, and walked around Quinn to the kitchen table, where her messenger bag lay. "Quinn, Beth is my daughter, I am taking her, and you are not. You weren't equipped to be her mother before, you certainly can't do it now" Shelby finished, staring at Quinn.

"It's not about me, haven't you seen a zombie movie at all? The military bases, hospitals, and Wal-Marts are the first to go. Taking Beth there would be a death sentence, you should come with me to the Jones's cabin, it has a well, solar power, enough acreage for a huge garden, and me. Me…I can't be without her, Shelby, without knowing she's safe. Not with-"

"I think you should leave. She is my daughter, and I'm going to do what's best for her. I think the Government would know better than a _teenager, _Quinn, who has watched too many zombie movies. You need to leave. Now," Shelby finished, pointing towards the door then crossing her arms over her chest.

"Shelby, please," Quinn said, tears now freely falling from her eyes, "Please…please just come with us. Rachel will be there, I'm sure. And-"

"Quinn," Shelby stated, looking at Quinn with pity in her eyes, and her tone was gentler, but still held a hard edge, "Rachel is with her father's, she doesn't need me. I'm not her mother. I'm _Beth's_ _mother_, and we aren't going anywhere with you. I'm sorry Quinn, but that's the way things are. Now leave." The older woman tentatively reached an arm over to Quinn, and gently nudged the pink haired girl towards the front door.

Quinn numbly walked a few steps, Shelby close behind. Now, with her parents dead, Beth going away. Far away, where Quinn couldn't protect her, couldn't be with her, it felt like her whole world was lost. Nothing mattered. She may as well go find the nearest one of those things, and let it have a snack.

Quinn stopped, and played with the zipper on her coat. Shelby said more things, but the woman may as well as been forty feet underwater, Quinn didn't hear a word.

Beth was her baby, her child, her mistake, her _responsibility_, her perfection. Her family.

And right now, Quinn realized with a jolt, Quinn needed to protect Beth from Shelby.

In a quick motion, Quinn pulled the zipper down the rest of the way, and pulled out the gun. Shelby had enough time to, eyes wide with sudden fear and all traces of worry and tiredness gone start to say something as Quinn pointed it at Shelby, and hissed, "No, you don't know what's best for her, you're not her _real_ mother, and you'll _never_ be her real mother, no matter how much you _pretend._ It's obvious that you're going to get her killed, and I can't let you do that." Quinn heard Shelby's pleading, but it sounded like background noise as Quinn pulled the trigger.

The gun shot seemed to echo through the room, as Quinn stared at Shelby's body. With a whimper, she dropped the gun, and fell to her knees as she stared at Shelby's ruined face.

Hazily, a part of her realized she could hear Beth crying and knew she should get up and go take care of her, but she couldn't find strength to stand, couldn't do anything but look at Shelby. At what she had done.

At what she had to do, to make sure her baby would be safe. With a mind of its own, her hand found her cross necklace. She clutched it, and stared at Shelby's body.

She sat there, watching the blood pool around Shelby's body, until Beth's crying really broke through to her.

Her baby needed her.

Blankly, Quinn stood up, and wiped the tears away from eyes.

She did what she had to do to protect her daughter.

Tears still streaming down her face, despite her wiping them away and telling herself she did what she had to do, she yanked hard on the necklace, and let it fall onto the ground next to Shelby's body.

Mechanically, she went into Shelby's bedroom, where a scared looking Beth stopped sobbing at seeing her, but upon realizing she wasn't Shelby, started hollering for her momma.

Biting her lip, Quinn wiped away her tears again, and crawled up onto the bed with Beth.

"Shhhh baby, Momma's here, " and pulled Beth into a hug.

Beth, at first, allowed Quinn to hug her, but after a few minutes tried to struggle to get out of Quinn's arms, but Quinn just held her tighter. Eventually, the toddler tired, and let Quinn hold her without protest. Clutching the toddler to her tightly, Quinn hummed tunelessly, staring at a painting on the wall.

She had her baby, Beth was safe.

* * *

Quinn in the state she was in, likely would have sat there for hours holding Beth, the toddler giving an occasional confused whimper for her mother, if not for her phone blaring out "Bitch"

Santana's ringtone, programmed by the Latina girl herself last year, that Quinn hadn't bothered to change.

Dumbly, Quinn let go of Beth, who promptly scooted away from Quinn, picking up and grasping her teddy bear, staring at Quinn with wide, confused eyes. Quinn pulled the phone out of her coat pocket, the time glaring at her in accusing numbers.

4:29 pm.

Had it only really been almost an hour and a half since Quinn had crawled out of bed?

She felt drained. If it wasn't for the toddler sitting next to her, Quinn would have been tempted to just crawl into Shelby's bed and sleep. This area was safe, she _could_ put Beth in her room, and just take a short nap.

"_I've been numb, I'm revived. Can't say I'm not alive_" Meredith Brook's almost accusing voice brought Quinn out of her thoughts, reminding her she had a call should answer.

"Santana," she said quietly, looking at Beth.

"Quinn," Santana's voice came out frantic from the phone, tinny and low, "You…they're all dead. Se han ido, están muertos, están muertos joden todos están muertos y tratando de comernos. Tiffany's out there in my SUV Quinn, I _left_ her there. Brittany está nunca me va a perdonar que pueden así morir con mi familia!"

Quinn felt a surge of panic go through her. She spoke enough Spanish to know what Santana said, and she was still processing it when Santana continued, "We're at Abuela's and they're all dead. Britt's and I, we're hiding in the hall bathroom. You know there's no window in here, Tiffany's in my SUV by herself. Please Quinn, please," Santana's voice held an almost hysterical edge to it, and Quinn had never heard Santana sound so…scared. Quinn could hear Brittany sobbing.

"I…" Quinn looked at Beth. Beth. She couldn't just let her friends die, not if there was a chance "I'll be there soon Santana."

"Hurry Quinn," Santana whispered, before the call ended.

Quinn turned off the phone, and shoved it back into her pocket.

"Beth, " She whispered softly, still not quite believing her daughter was right here, "We're going to go bye bye okay?"

The toddler looked at Quinn with wide eyes.

She grabbed a throw blanket off the foot of the bed, and leaving Beth by herself she quickly went into the kitchen and covered Shelby's body. She didn't look at her, at the blood and gore on the wall, at the puddle of blood surrounded the dead woman. Quinn noticed the gun on the ground.

She was surprised; she didn't remember dropping it. She swallowed, and looked down, telling herself she did what she had to do to protect Beth.

She picked it, and put it back into the shoulder holster, and zipped up her coat.

Back in Shelby's bedroom, hesitantly, Quinn picked up Beth, blankets teddy bear and all. Beth didn't fuss about it, which gave Quinn a little more confidence. Santana's call had lifted Quinn out of the fog she'd been surrounded in. She had a purpose. Beth was safe, but Santana, Brittany, and Brittany's sister Tiffany weren't.

Quinn would keep them all safe, somehow.

At the couch, Quinn put Beth into her car seat, slung the stuffed diaper bag over her shoulder, and grabbed the purple suitcase. Frowning, she shoved a serious looking baby backpack into a black trash bag containing a fold up travel play pen, blankets, sheets, diapers and soft toys along with several grocery totes full of toys and soft books. Hefting the trash bag onto the suitcase, she grunted as she dragged them together, testing it.

It would be work, but she'd manage. She had too. She couldn't afford to waste time making another trip.

She made sure Beth had her teddy bear, then picked up the car seat in her other hand. She lugged everything to the front door, and set the car seat down on the ground to cautiously open the door and peak in the hallway.

It was just as empty when Quinn had come up stairs.

She let out a deep breath, picked up the car seat again, and stepped outside.

She didn't bother to close Shelby's front door.

Every step Quinn took downstairs, Quinn expected someone to jump out at her, shout that she was a murderer and take her baby from her. Zombies weren't even a concern to her until she reached the lobby, and saw a couple shambling around outside.

Quinn was glad for the panicked rush she had been in earlier, that had lead to her parking in front of the building's doors. It took her a few minutes, alert and tense the entire time, far longer then she would have liked to figure out how to buckle Beth's car seat in behind the driver's seat, but after she did it was simple to toss everything else into the back, and shove the diaper bag in the front passenger seat next to her backpack.

Unbidden, a memory of a few weeks after she'd given birth, and given her child away, days after school had ended for the summer came to her as she drove towards Santana's Grandmother's house.

_Without the weight of her baby -no, she sternly corrected herself, Shelby Corcoran's baby, (she hoped, and prayed, that if she told herself that enough it'd sink in, and the feeling like she needed to get her baby back would go away. It was over, done with, and things could go back to normal. She wasn't a teen mother, forever tied to Noah Puckerman. She had a bright future filled with 2.5 blonde children fathered by a perfect husband she'd meet in college,) Quinn felt empty. She didn't feel lighter, however. She felt huge._

_So she pushed herself, despite the doctor telling her to take it easy these first few weeks after giving birth. She finished her ten mile run, panting, and practically collapsed on the sidewalk in front of her house. She sat there, her head down low near her knees, trying to take deep, even breaths in the cool early morning air. It was barely seven am, and the streets were quiet. Most importantly, there was no one outside yet who would watch her struggle to run, who would watch her blubber jiggle._

_Control. She needed to have control. She was going to go back to school, and be back at the top. She'd have to claw her way up there, but she'd do it. She'd be head cheerleader again, and this year she'd be prom queen, too._

_So if it took running ten miles in the morning, and ten at night, she'd do it, pushing herself hard, putting all her longing for her child into each painful step, she'd do it. This summer, she'd get back to the way she was before she'd given birth. She'd be even better than before, even._

_She was gasping for air, every bit of her body aching when she realized two figures were walking up the sidewalk. She stilled, as she realized it was Santana and Brittany._

_Even faced, she stared at them nonchalantly, not letting onto the pain she was in, as they strolled up to her house._

_"Hi Quinn!" Brittany said, grinning at Quinn and sitting next to her on the sidewalk, "We went for a walk. How are you?"_

_"I'm just fine Britts," Quinn said perfectly, her tone even._

_"Can you imagine how fat you would have gotten if it had been two lizard babies instead of one? " Santana smirked, and put her hands on her hips._

_Quinn glared at the brunette, while next to her Brittany said, "Do you think Puck will show me his lizard face sometime?"_

_"There's only one thing Puckerman wants to show you Brittany," Santana rolled her eyes, then plopped down on Quinn's other side._

_Quinn stiffened, then said, "Why are you here?"_

_Brittany leaned against her, "You had your baby and gave her away Quinn, and Santana thought you might be sad."_

_"You've been running like, twenty miles a day the last few days? Over kill much? Even Coach would say so," Santana added, looking at Quinn with her head cocked to the side, the threat in her tone clear._

_"I'm fat, Santana. Remember, you literally mentioned it every day the last six months of my pregnancy," Quinn said, "Have you been spying on me?"_

_"You haven't answered our texts Quinn, and Lord Tubbington saw you and told me. He's concerned too," Brittany replied._

_Santana snorted, "Please Q. You and I both know you looked like someone had stuffed a basketball under your dress, you gained like ten pounds, tops. I was just being a bitch."_

_"My stretch marks say otherwise." Quinn said dryly._

_"I've got stretch marks on my boobs and hips. Santana's got some on her thighs and boobs. It's not a big deal," Brittany looked at Quinn serenely, "And Lord Tubbington has so many he's going to look like a tiger when he goes bald."_

_Quinn looked away, and swallowed tightly._

_"It's okay to be sad Quinn," Brittany added._

_"I'm fine."_

_Brittany slung an arm around her, and Quinn stiffened up._

_"We're going to run with you, five miles every other morning. That's it. And we'll swim a shitload, tan, and eat too much pizza. It'll be okay Q," Santana said, daring Quinn to argue._

_"I…want my baby," Quinn admitted softly, staring at the pavement._

_"There's like, a law that says you can give a car back to the dealership, change your mind, within three days. I bet it's like thirty days or something for kids. You'll can her back Quinn." Santana said, "If not, I'll find Berry's birth pod, corner her in an alley, and go all Snix on her until she's offering the kid back to you on a silver platter."_

_"Santana and I will babysit!" Brittany chirped. Santana snorted, but didn't say anything, just looked at Quinn expectantly._

_"No. I'm…She deserves to be with an actual adult, who's family isn't as messed up as mine…it's just for the best, okay? It's just hormones, it'll go away soon." Hopefully._

_"Let's go in to your house, get some water. Brittany will make eggs, and you pack a bag. My parents are out of town for the next few days, we're going to eat ice cream and watch sappy movies, get it all out of you."_

_"I'll have to let mom know, " Quinn took a deep breath, "I don't know what'd I do without you two. You guys are great."_

_Santana smirked, "I know."_

_"Santana's SUV is just around the corner, so we won't have to walk to her house," Brittany added._

_Quinn rolled her eyes, "Of course it is."_

Quinn didn't know what she would find when she got to Alma Lopez's home, but that wasn't going to stop her from finding Santana and Brittany. And Tiffany. Brittany would be devastated if something happened to her sister, she hoped the girl was okay.

She had already lost her parents, she wasn't going to lose any of her friends, not if she could help it.

* * *

**A/N:**

This isn't one of those stories where everything's perfect even though there are zombies running around, and the characters have super happy, _lucky_ almost carefree lives. The characters are only human and mostly teenagers, they will make wrong choices, they will make mistakes, and they will (usually) face some sort of consequences for their actions. This is a Faberrittana (friendship) story; Quinn, Rachel, Santana and Brittany are the main characters, and it will switch between their POVs with a very slight focus on Quinn and Rachel.

Also, Quinn will face consequences for killing Shelby, if that part bothered you. (And it should have, Quinn went a little crazy, murdered a woman, and kidnapped a toddler!)

I promise there are plenty of Quinn/Rachel moments to get you through until the Finn/Rachel breakup. ;)

This is a Quinn/Rachel story, a. It will be a slow burn, as I intend on it to be realistic. It'll happen, but not for a while.

Puck's Text: "Q, r u ok? Get supplies m RS32. Follow Plan. Stay safe. Pass along"

Translation: "Quinn, are you okay? Grab supplies, and meet at rest stop 32. Stay safe, pass along."

Santana's Spanish: Se han ido, están muertos, están muertos joden todos están muertos y tratando de comernos.

Translation: They're gone, they're dead, they're dead fuck they are all dead and trying to eat us.

Brittany está nunca me va a perdonar que pueden así morir con mi familia!"

Translation: Brittany's never going to forgive me I may as well die with my family

I don't speak Spanish, it was done with Google translate. Which I'm sure you can tell if you _do_ speak Spanish. :)

I love hearing from readers, so please please review. Feel free to ask questions, I'll reply in author's notes or a pm.

This is a Season 3 AU that starts around the first three episodes, where I've changed a few things around. For starters, the first three episodes took place during the first few days of the first week of school, with only bits and pieces of episodes two and three. Secondly, Sam's dad never found a job, so Sam never left. Mercedes and him broke up and she started dating Shane. The episode "The Substitute" was moved up to end of last school year, for reasons you'll see next chapter. Additionally, Terri lied to Will about moving to Miami. Puck and Finn kept working at Sheets N' Things, and both became friendly with her, Puck much more so.

Pairings are currently early season 3, but some of them will change as characters will die. Other then all that, it's mostly tiny things that don't matter much, but annoyed me. Like Santana's boob job didn't happen.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I'm not making money from this. Any quotes taken directly from the show will be noted.


	2. Tragic Kingdom

Rachel Berry was many things, but back then, future Broadway star was all she thought mattered about herself. It was center to her core, it was what got her though the slushies, the mocking, the loneliness, the taunts, the eye rolling; the knowledge that one day she'd be on Broadway, and high school wouldn't matter after she walked across that stage and accepted her diploma. So as her father drove the Berry's through Lima, Ohio, her only real fear at the moment was that, somehow, this would jeopardize her Broadway dreams. She was certain that everyone would arrive safely with their families at the meet up area, they would head towards the Jones's cabin and things would go back to normal in one to three months, depending on how long it took the military to adjust to the situation.

She would freely admit later -_much_ later, that she hadn't even thought about, in those first few hours, hadn't even _realized,_ just how the world was going to change, how dangerous it was going to turn, how little her dreams of Broadway mattered until reality slapped her in the face.

Rachel sent out another text message, then set her phone down in the seat. In the front, her dads were arguing. They were driving from LeRoy's grandmother's cottage that was on the outskirts of town, and the total opposite side of Lima from their house. LeRoy had wanted to get his grandfather's rifle, just in case, but the other two members of his family hadn't wanted him to go alone. They had also stopped at several stores to gather supplies that may be needed that they hadn't had in their home, and between the very long lines, and the other customer's near rioting about the price gauging, it had taken them far longer to get to the rest stop then Rachel would have liked. Luckily, the cell phones were still working so she had kept Puck updated, and had still been able to send out messages of to current and former New Direction members.

She was mostly sure Santana didn't mean it when earlier she had replied to Rachel's text message saying "**go b sum zoms appetizer britts and I r going to abuelas**"

And yet, even Santana's message had been more satisfactory then the message Rachel had received from Shelby. The woman had simply replied that she and Beth would not be joining them at the Jones's cabin, and thanked Rachel for thinking of them.

She did not enquire about Rachel or her father's, did not ask that the Berry's join her…she did not seem to care that Rachel was her child, and there were literal monsters (if the news was to believed) around. Rachel knew, objectively, after Shelby's rejection of her sophomore year and subsequent adoption of Quinn and Puck's baby, that the woman had made it clear she wasn't going to be Rachel's mother. And Rachel was over it; really. Truly. The hurt of rejection was a hurt Rachel was familiar with, of course. Deeply. So coming from the woman who had given birth to her had rubbed salt into the ever present wound.

So yes, now she was over it even if it still stung a bit, so she was glad she was able to busy herself with texting and conversing with her fathers.

They, she comforted herself, loved her and would always be there for her. She didn't need Shelby, not really, and the woman clearly did not need Rachel. She had mourned their relationship, and moved on, and this was just an unexpected blip on the radar.

"I maintain that it's foolish to ignore what the government is saying. We shouldn't put our safety in the hands of a bunch of teenagers' half baked end of the world plans. Let alone the safety of our daughter. How much longer until we're there, this area of town seems to be crawling with those things?"

"Hiram, I think it's imprudent to rely on the government to keep us safe. As long as we have enough resources, the Jones's cabin should be far enough out that we'll traverse this situation just fine."

Hiram sighed, "If it's not as protected as they think it will be, then we leave. If it becomes unsafe, we leave. If Finn tries to have alone time with Rachel, we leave."

"Agreed."

"Dads!"

"What darling, we have to have our priorities in order," Hiram said, turning towards the backseat, where Rachel was perched in the middle, and giving his daughter a grin.

Rachel leaned forward, and looked worriedly at the small bandage on Hiram's forehead, "How are your head and wrist feeling Daddy?"

"Fine. It was just a tiny cut and a minor sprain. You two are worry far too much. I shouldn't have even wrapped my wrist. I will be more careful the next time I go to get something down off the top shelf of our closet."

"I still think that you packed far too many of Rachel's scrapbooks," LeRoy offered, "I mean, the chances of -" Leroy stopped what he was saying as he put the brakes on. With a squeal, the car stopped suddenly. "Are you two ok?" He asked, as he clicked the button that locked all the car doors.

"Yes Papa. I am wearing my seatbelt of course, and this is a very highly safety rated vehicle. What is going on?" Rachel asked, leaning forward to see what it was that had forced her father to stop like that.

"Pumpkin, let us do the talking. This goes against everything we've ever taught you, but don't draw any attention to yourself, just in case," Hiram muttered.

"Daddy, what-" Rachel started to say, but LeRoy hissing "shhhhh" at her silenced her.

"Now you're going to open the car doors nice and easy, and get out. Leave the keys in the ignition," A rough voice said from outside the car.

"May we grab out personal belongings?" LeRoy asked, his hands up on the wheel.

"Shit, just all of you get out of the car. Fast before those things notice us. Do it fast enough, we might let you take what you can carry." The voice said, agitated.

"Pumpkin, stay behind me and Daddy," LeRoy said, as he carefully undid his belt, unlocked the doors, and pushed his door open, and stepped outside holding his arms up. Following his lead, Hiram and Rachel did the same.

The man standing in the middle of the road holding a shotgun kept it pointed at the ground near her Dads' feet. Rachel bit her lip, scared. There was an older model SUV pulled over the side of the road, clearly broken down.

"Eric, come out of the SUV and get their things for them. Shelly help him, then get the kids in there, then our stuff," the man called out. At the man's words, a short teen boy, a few years younger looking then Rachel stepped out of the SUV, nervously holding a pistol that he stuffed in the back of his pants.

"Ke-keep your arms up," he said weakly as he walked towards the back of the Berry's car, a worried looking woman following him. She had the same vibrant red hair and freckles as the boy, and was obviously his mother.

She pulled Rachel's backpack from the back seat, setting it near Rachel's feet with a sad smile, then went to help her son started take out the rolling suitcases and numerous boxes from the hatchback.

After several long minutes, the boy said, "Done. Dad, they must have stopped at the store or something, they've got a lot of stuff in here, good stuff, even a rifle?"

"Just take their stuff out and leave it on the road son."

"Even the rifle? Mom could use the pistol and I could use it?" At the boy's question, all three Berry's looked at the man. Rachel's arms were starting to get tired from being above her head.

He considered, looking at Rachel before he made his decision, and said, "No. Put their bullets in a box so we'll have time leave while they get them. We're already taking their car, we can leave them something to defend themselves. They'll need it."

"Perhaps you drop us off at a safer area. Please?" Rachel asked. She didn't have to fake the fear in her voice. A small group of the undead had noticed them by now, and were heading towards them, headless of the corpses littering the ground that had already tried to get the family here.

"You're the only car that's been up this way since we broke down. Everyone's leaving town or getting supplies, and damned if I thought I was cleaver heading this way to avoid them. Sorry lil' lady, but if it's a choice between you or my family, I'm choosing my family."

"I hope," Hiram said in a snide tone, glaring at the man, "That karma doesn't bite your behind."

Instead of answering Hiram, the man just said, "Shelly start loading the kids, Eric start putting our stuff in the back. Hurry. " Gesturing with the shotgun, he pointed at the truck, "You three may as well help load our stuff. Quicker we get out of here, the better."

Silently, the three Berry's joined the red haired boy in loading the heavy boxes and bags in the hatchback of their car. They were almost done when he noticed the white ace bandage wrapped around Hiram's wrist.

"Dad! He's been bit!" He shakily pulled the pistol out of the back of his pants and pointed it at Hiram.

"You are mistaken, I just sprained my-" Hiram started, but before he could finish explaining, wide eyed the boy shoot him twice.

"Daddy!" Rachel yelled, dropping the box of toys she had been holding and dropping to her knees to put pressure on the wound in Hiram's shoulder with one hand, and side with the other. LeRoy stood in shock for a moment, before flinging himself towards the boy as the redhead looked like he was going to shoot Hiram again.

"He's not bit, don't!"

The boy stepped back towards his dad, making sure to hold the gun at LeRoy, "Dad?" he asked.

The man looked at the scene before him, Rachel crying and holding her hands on Hiram's wounds, LeRoy looking shocked and scared, his frightened son, and the zombies that had definitely heard the noise from the gun and were moving faster towards them.

"Eric, leave them. Get in the car, we need to go."

"But dad…"

"Now son!"

With one last look at the Berry's, the boy went into their car where his family was waiting.

"Wait, our cell phones, give them to us, please!" Rachel yelled to the family. Only to be ignored.

Rachel, watched through her tears as their car drove away, leaving her and her father's in the road with their belongings.

There were almost a zombies heading towards them that Rachel could see. Rachel and LeRoy would have no issues outrunning them; but with Hiram injured that would be impossible. Rachel shot a look at LeRoy, who was clutching his grandfather's rifle, and digging around the tote box the boy had stuffed the ammo into.

Tears in her eyes, not even noticing the blood spreading out and covering her tights and dress in blood as she kneeled down next to her daddy, Rachel put pressure on his shoulder and side. "It's okay daddy, you are going to be fine," she said clearly to her daddy, not wanting him to panic.

She could hear her father firing shot after shot with the rifle, cursing when he missed. Hopefully someone else would come along, and they could get her daddy medical attention. Noah and Finn's mother's were both nurses, so if they could just get Hiram to them, he'd be fine. He had to be.

She couldn't bring herself to sing to him, no matter how much he enjoyed her voice, so she continued speaking soothing words to her daddy, while putting pressure on his wounds. She was acutely aware when LeRoy stopping firing, and looked up at him.

LeRoy seemed to have aged ten years in the minutes it took him to put kill the zombies that had been coming towards them.

"That noise will draw them from all over," LeRoy muttered, then looked at Rachel, "How is he?" he asked, his voice low and pained.

"Papa he's bleeding so much, we need to get him to Mrs. Puckerman and Carole, or a hospital" Rachel looked up at her father, tears streaming down her face. She was intensely aware a large portion of her, from her legs to her wrists, were covered in her father's blood, and couldn't imagine what was going through her father's mind as he looked down at his child and partner.

"There's no cars, and I would think if there was any way to fix that truck they would have…" LeRoy muttered, loosely holding the gun at his side with one hand, he stomped to the pile of their belongings, and shoved boxes aside till he found the one he was looking for. Opening it, he grabbed the large first aid kit, and turned towards Rachel and the prone form of his partner.

"Here Rachel, do what you can with..." He trailed off as he got a better look at Hiram.

"What is it papa?"

Swallowing thickly, he said, "Rachel, check for a pulse. Then put on your hiking boots."

Rachel did as her father ordered, wiping her hand on her dress first. "Papa? He's…."

"Your daddy…he's gone pumpkin. We need to stay ahead of those things, we have to leave."

"No, we can't, we have to do something!" Rachel was incredulous.

"We have to leave him. I know it's hard, but we can't stay here. He'd want us somewhere safe. Please, put on your hiking boots. Pull a pair of socks over your tights first. We'll…we'll be doing a lot of walking."

The feeling of hurt, of disbelief went through Rachel as she did what her father told her, pulling off her bloodstained Mary Janes, and digging through a tote to find her hiking boots and a pair of wool socks.

While she was doing that, in-between shooting any zombies that got within range of his rifle, her father was digging through their things, pulling out what he wanted to keep.

After her boots and socks were on, laces firmly tied, he tossed a belt towards her, and said, "Use that to belt your sleeping bag and pillow to the top of your suitcase. " She did as he told her, aware that those things were heading towards them. Slowly, but surely.

LeRoy finishing placing various items in Rachel's backpack, and set it down next to her while she belted her sleeping bag and pillow to the top of her rolling suitcase.

He set her jacket on top of it, then turned towards Hiram's body.

He stood there, staring at the man he loved, not focusing on the world around the two of them until Rachel said, in a small voice "Papa?"

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry Papa. If we had went to the base, like he wanted. This is my fault, I shouldn't have insisted on joining the other New Directions…"

Rachel watched as LeRoy swallowed thickly, then said, "Rachel, this isn't your fault. Going to a cabin with a handful of people instead of going to a military base with hundreds or perhaps even thousands of people has to be safer. It just has too," He looked across at the zombies shuffling towards them, "I just need to gather a few more things, and change my shoes, then we're leaving." He started putting things into his messenger bag.

Rachel bit her lip, and used a clean part of her dress to wipe the tears off her face. Looking at Hiram's body, the wave of hurt washed over her again. She couldn't just leave him in the middle of the road, she decided. She picked up one of his arms, and started attempting to pull him to the side of the road. After a minute of putting a lot of effort into it, she had only gone perhaps a foot. She felt like a small child, instead of nearly a high school graduate on her way to college, almost an adult. Well, almost seventeen; she would not actually turn eighteen until after next year due to her December birthday.

Silently, LeRoy joined her. Between the two of them, they pulled Hiram's body to the side of the road. Just as silently as before, LeRoy resumed what he was doing. Rachel went to their pile of belongings, and pulled out a sheet. She put it over Hiram's body, and bowed her head.

Sometimes, she had pictured herself old, _very_ old, preparing for her father's funeral. They would die together, peacefully in their sleep, content with life and a daughter who was a hit Broadway star and EGOT award winner, that had given them three amazing grandchildren. She would look elegant, refined, and be able to say at the funeral that they had died together, peacefully and happy. Then she would sing a song (she hadn't decided on which song yet, but hadn't been bothered by that because she knew, just _knew_ that she'd have plenty of time to pick,) and everyone would leave the funeral feeling sad, but peaceful.

Looking at Hiram's sheet covered body, she felt like all her dreams were the dream of a foolish, spoiled child. There would be no Broadway, no EGOT, no grandchildren for LeRoy and Hiram to dote on, no arguments about decorating their retirement home. No Hiram at all.

"Rachel, it's time to go," LeRoy said quietly, as he reloaded his rifle. He already changed shoes, had his bulging messenger bag on, and his own suitcase with his sleeping bag and pillow belted to the handle.

Rachel looked at LeRoy.

If she was feeling this bad at losing Hiram, she couldn't even imagine the fathoms of pain her remaining father was in.

Silently, she pulled on her coat. It was September in Ohio, and it would be dark in a few hours. Then it'd get colder.

LeRoy was wearing Hiram's coat.

She pulled on her backpack, and looked down at her suitcase. The pink of it, her sleeping bag, and pillow stood out brightly over the black belt that strapped them to the handle.

Her father stood waiting. With one last glance at Hiram's body, and the zombies shambling towards them, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

Hesitantly, then stronger at first, she said "I doubt it will be a problem with anyone if we were to come back in a vehicle, gather our remaining belongings, and give Daddy a proper burial. Right Papa?" Rachel didn't know if anyone would have a problem with that. Perhaps, given how hot and cold her fellow New Direction members could to be her sometimes, they might. But it was important for her to believe there was a chance Hiram wouldn't be left to decompose on the side of a road. And that they would make it to the rest stop safely.

Grimly, LeRoy looked at the increasing hoard of zombies shuffling towards them, and at the near empty street they would have to walk down, then at his daughter.

"No Pumpkin, I doubt anyone would have a problem with that."

They started walking, both well aware that they had zombies at their back, and many miles to walk. Miles that could have anything in store for them.

* * *

Going towards Santana's Grandmother's house from Shelby's felt like riding waves on the ocean in a leaking row boat. Some sense of making sure Beth was safe ensured Quinn drove across town as much as she could before going north towards the chaos she had left behind.

Santana's Grandmother lived in Lima Heights Adjacent, which was in the rougher, poorer side of town. Santana's dad was a Doctor, and had long offered to buy Alma a new house in a nicer neighborhood, (he himself having moved Santana and her mom into the super nice section of town, nicer then Quinn's neighborhood even, but that didn't stop Santana from claiming to be from Lima Heights Adjacent when convenient), but Mrs. Lopez stubbornly insisted she'd lived in that house since she married Santana's grandfather at 18, and she'd die there.

Quinn stared at the road ahead of her grimly. Alma Lopez, and most, if not all of the Lopez family if Santana was correct, had done just that.

The emptiness inside of her, now that she had Beth, that Beth was _hers_ was filled with love for her daughter, and fear.

Fear that she wouldn't be able to protect Beth. Fear that someone will find out what she did, and take Beth. Fear that she'll die, and leave Beth alone.

She didn't even want to think about Santana and Brittany being dead when she got there; that the whole trip to Alma Lopez's home was a waste of time.

Fear edged at her that they were dead, that Mack was dead, that she'd get to the rest stop and everyone there would be dead.

That'd she'd be alone, that she'd be too weak to keep Beth safe by herself.

She shoved the rising panic down, and tried to keep her thoughts blank.

Sighing softly to herself, she turned the last turn down the road at the house was on.

Santana's SUV was crashed in the middle of the road at the streetlight near the front of her grandmother's house, the front doors wide open. Those things, the zombies, were milling around the whole street. At the sight of a moving vehicle, they came shambling towards her.

She pulled behind Santana's SUV, and took a deep breath. She turned, and looked at Beth. Her baby was sleeping, a little frown on her face.

Quinn couldn't take her with her. She'd known that, the whole drive, that she'd be leaving her daughter inside the SUV by herself.

There was no other choice, no matter how much of a bad mother it made her feel like. Stretching, she reached back and put Beth's teddy bear back in her hands, then flung a blanket over the seat and car seat. As long as Beth stayed asleep, she'd be fine.

Quinn tried not to think about what would happen to Beth if Quinn never came back to the SUV. If she was stuck in it, slowly dying by dehydration. And that was assuming the zombies didn't manage to break in, where they'd rip her baby apart -

Quinn took another deep breath, and pushed that thought, that image, out of her mind. She had no choice, but once she rescued Brittany and Santana, Beth would never be left alone again. And she would rescue them. She _would_.

She opened the door, grabbed her backpack and in one swift motion locked the car up and put the keys safely in her backpack before putting it on.

Pulling the machete out, she ran to Santana's SUV. The zombies growled and moaned, but followed her, ignoring the SUV completely, giving her a glimmer of satisfaction.

There was a dark headed zombie trying to get something in the back in Santana's SUV.

Focusing, she ran to the passenger side and shut the door softly, then ran back around to the driver side where the walker was.

She grabbed it by its pony tail and pulled it out of the SUV and down onto the ground, stabbing it quickly through the eye, then wiping the blade off on it's already gore covered shirt. She let out the breath she was holding in relief when she looked closely at the zombie, and realized it wasn't Santana. It _was_ one of Santana's cousins though. She tried to breath shallowly, as it smelled like death ate vomit then vomited again. There was goo and gore spattered all over the SUV, which didn't help anything.

The other zombies were still milling around the street, slowly heading towards her, at a pace she could easily just jog away from if needed. She went inside the SUV, pulling the door closed behind her and scooting over to the passenger side, to avoid the walker muck on the driver side.

She took another deep breath, wrinkling her nose at the zombie smell.

She climbed over the seat into the backseat, noting Brittany's four year old sister, Tiffany's car seat was empty, and so was Lord Tubbington's cage.

There was no blood or anything, so that was a good sign.

She was mentally gearing up to go inside Santana's grandmother's house when she heard muffled crying.

"Hello? It's Quinn," Quinn said, trying to keep her voice calm. She didn't know if she had it in her to kill Brittany's almost five year old zombie sister.

A blonde head poked up from under a pile of blankets in the cargo area. Lord Tubbington crawled out from under them, a wet spot in his fur from where Tiffany had obviously been crying on him and looked at Quinn. "Quinn?" Tiffany asked, her voice quivering in fear.

"Yeah Tiff, it's me." Quinn said, smiling a tight smile at the girl, then added, trying not to frown, "You're alright, aren't you? No owies?"

"No owies. The monster was trying to get me so I climbed back here with Lord Tubbington so it didn't. She left me. Where's Britt? " The girl asked in her tiny voice with a sob, unable to finish her sister's name.

"In the house. I'll find her and Santana, ok?"

"Ok," Tiffany said, sniffling.

Quinn used her machete to cut the seat belt holding Tiffany's car seat, lifting it up to ensure it was released from its bindings, and did the same with Lord Tubbington's cage.

"Get your backpack honey, ok, and climb over to where I am. We're going to have to run to my car."

"I don't wanna leave my kitty and -" The smaller blonde girl asked as she climbed over the seat, clutching her backpack and stuffed pink unicorn, before Quinn interrupted her. "We'll get you over to my car, then I'll get your stuff and Lord Tubbington ok?"

The girl nodded, holding her unicorn and pulling her Dora the Explorer backpack on as Quinn carefully reached into the cargo area and grabbed a very fluffed up Lord Tubbington, who looked at her with distain as she put him into his cage.

Tiffany huddled against the seat as Quinn located her purple sleeping bag, Dora pillow, and suit case, putting them neatly in the seat next to Tubbington's cage for easy access.

"Alright Tiffany, I'm going to take you and your car seat to my car, then come back and get your stuff and the cat. I'll be as fast as possible ok? I'm going to need you to stay there and not make any noise, can you do that for me sweetie?" Quinn asked, her hand on the door, keys clutched tightly, "You can't make any noise because you'll wake up Beth, or let the monsters know the pair of you are in there?"

Tiffany nodded, her tear stained face serious.

"Alright, let's go." And at that Quinn opened the door silently, and picking the girl up, who obediently wrapped her arms and legs around Quinn. Quinn picked up the car seat by the handle, and crept outside.

It took no more than ten seconds to dash from one car to the other, and perhaps another four seconds to unlocked the door, and then three seconds to shove herself, carrying the girl and car seat, into the car, then flinging the door closed.

In that time, four zombies had stumbled towards them. Quinn could make out others coming towards them, the rest of the zombies on the street.

But these ones were so close she could see them clearly without her contacts in. One of them was one of Santana's aunts, the necklace with her children's birthstones still around her ruined neck, glinting brightly. Her kids were seven, five, three and one, and Quinn couldn't even bring herself to hope they were hiding somewhere. Another was a neighbor that had moved in at the same time Alma Lopez and Santana's grandfather did, she was Alma's best friend, even if neither women would ever admit it. Quinn stared at the curly blue rinsed hair, trying not to look at the black goo seeping from the woman's eyes, remembering how Santana had brought her a baby blanket the woman had knitted for her once news of Quinn's pregnancy had come out. Quinn had labored over a thank you note on Carole Hudson's best stationary for hours, trying to find the way to put the right words down. Quinn swallowed thickly as a traitorous voice inside her was whispering, _"If you had gotten up earlier, Santana probably would have invited you here you could have stopped this, you could have saved some of them…"_

She pushed those thoughts away; Coach Sue's training or not (and she didn't even remember most of it anyway) she wasn't a super hero, she wasn't responsible for saving or protecting anyone except Beth and now Santana, Brittany, and Tiffany.

She looked at Beth, who was still sleeping and still covered by the blanket, then at Tiffany. Tiffany was alternating looking at her and the zombies with teary eyes, some sort of instinctual primal function inside the four year old keeping her silent as she cried.

She set Tiffany down in the passenger seat, trying to ignore how reluctant the four year old was to let her go, and quickly got Tiffany's car seat buckled in the back behind the passenger side seat, and spared a quick look to make sure Beth was still sleeping, grabbed another blanket and tossed it from the passenger seat to Tiffany's car seat, making a tent. She picked up Tiffany, who put her face against Quinn's shoulder, sobbing a little louder now, then ducked into the small sad blanket tent.

"I know you're scared Tiffany, I am too," Quinn whispered, "I'll be right back with Lord Tubbington, okay?"

With a tear stained face, Tiffany nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as she sat on the floorboard, whimpering.

With one last glance at her daughter, her _baby_, Quinn slithered back to the front seat. Making sure the machete was strapped tightly to her leg, available when she needed it, and that she had a box of bullets in her coat pocket, with one last check that her Glock was loaded, she slid the backpack off, clutched the car keys, and opened the driver side door, smashing the button to relock all the doors, then closing the door as quietly as she could.

It was clear from the Quinn's SUV to Alma's house, and Quinn took a step forward when, with gritted teeth, she remembered she still needed to get Lord Tubbington. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the machete, and ran towards the first zombie. It looked like it had been a balding accountant before it'd died; except now most of his beer belly was gone, eaten before it had risen, and what wispy blonde hair it had was matted with blood. Keeping out of its reach, once she saw her chance she hit the machete on the side of its head, hard. The machete stuck in the skull a little bit, but did nothing to stop the zombie coming at Quinn.

The force went through her arm, making her teeth chatter and she had to dodge to avoid the zombie that had been Santana's Aunt. She wanted to laugh at herself, as much as she wanted to cry right now, and she pulled the machete out with a frantic tug, then shoved the machete back into its sheath, and kept dodging and weaving from the four zombies, trying not to run too far away from her SUV; barely paying attention to the fact that even more zombies had noticed and were coming towards her. Maybe Shelby had been right, maybe Quinn _had_ watched too many zombie movies; the pink haired girl had thought it'd be like 'The Walking Dead', where the zombie skulls would practically smash themselves if you looked at them hard. But no, the human skull was thick and there was no way, with Quinn's strength and just a machete she was smashing skulls quickly with it while trying to _run_.

She should have realized that. She should have, and now she was going to get ate by zombies and Santana and Brittany were probably dead anyway and Beth and Tiffany would die slowly in the SUV and she had _killed_ Shelby. Kill Shelby for no reason because she couldn't protect Beth, she can't protect anyone she wasn't good enough and they were all going to die and-

Quinn couldn't catch her breath, and tears in her eyes were making everything blurrier. She turned, trying to get away from the good dozen of zombies now following her, Santana's Aunt leading them, ahead by fifteen feet. Quinn hated herself for not being able to remember the woman's name. The woman was dead, her children, her husband, they were all dead and Quinn couldn't even remember her name. Quinn, her breath hitching, and struggling not to stand still and sob, Quinn was getting slower, getting tired. For a horrible second, she wished she had never gotten out of bed. That she had just stayed there, and slept until her parents went upstairs and ate her.

Santana's Aunt seemed to sense Quinn's speed slowing, that Quinn wasn't dodging as sharp as before, and lunged forward, catching Quinn's wrist with sparkly purple painted nails turned claws.

Snarling, with a grip stronger than it should have been, she pulled Quinn's arm towards her snapping teeth, the dark mauve lipstick smeared on her otherwise untouched face.

Quinn pulled away from her, grabbing for the machete with her other hand. The nails left half inch long scratches along the leather of Quinn's jacket. Quinn pulled the machete out of the sheath on her thigh. The rest of the zombies, trailing Santana's Aunt like ducklings following their mother. Blood thirsty, horrible ducklings out of a horror movie, were only a few feet behind Quinn. Desperate, with a near silent sob Quinn shoved the machete in the woman's face. It hit her eye, and Quinn shoved it harder, trying not to gag at the sound it made going through the woman's eye and into her brain.

The zombie fell, and the grip lessened enough for Quinn to pull her arm away. Quinn stumbled a little on the zombies legs, but managed to catch herself before she fell over, by a gate.

A burst of energy went through her, and she ran through it, the zombies far to close behind her. She ran as fast as she could through the yard, scrambling over the fence into the unfenced yard next door, running back towards the gate, avoiding Santana's Aunt's body, and shoved the gate closed. She pulled her belt off, and belted the gate closed.

She didn't know how long the fence would hold, or if zombies from the rest of the neighborhood would come, but for now the area was clear.

She stood for a moment, catching her breath as relief flowed through her, before jogging back to the SUV's. She threw open the door of Santana's SUV, and grabbed Lord Tubbington's cage (the cat staring stonily at her through the bars), and Tiffany's things, managing to grab Tiffany's stuffed unicorn from the seat.

Several long, hurried steps later she was back at her SUV, with only a brief stop to pick up Tiffany's unicorn that the girl had dropped on the trip to Quinn's SUV. Quinn hadn't noticed, and Tiffany had apparently took Quinn saying to be quiet very seriously, so she didn't say anything either. She managed to push the button to unlock the doors, wincing at the beeping noise the SUV made, and opened the back seat door behind the passenger side, where she had set up Tiffany.

Upon hearing the door open, from under the sad blanket tent, Tiffany whimpered.

"It's okay Tiffany, it's me," Quinn said, feeling like it'd been years since she'd spoken to a living person, and pulled the blanket off, removing the sad tent.

Tiffany stared at her with large, tear filled blue eyes. "I've got Lord Tubbington, and Queenie," Quinn added, nodding at the stuffed pink unicorn balanced, barely, on Lord Tubbington's cage.

Tiffany gave her a small smile, and Quinn leaned into the vehicle, and hefted Tiffany's suitcase in the back. She unrolled Tiffany's sleeping bag, and spread it on the floorboard around Tiffany, then helped the girl take off her backpack. Quinn plumped up Tiffany's pillow, and handed it to the girl, then handed her Queenie, then set Lord Tubbington's cage in the middle of the seat between the two car seats, letting the cat out.

The large cat promptly jumped down onto the floorboard next to Tiffany, curling up next to the girl. She pulled the blanket off of Beth's car seat, relieved to see the toddler was still sleeping deeply. Quinn put the other blanket back up, this time doing a better job of making it a sad tent; she set it over both front seats, and the backseat, tenting both Tiffany and Beth and hopefully keeping anything from paying attention to the SUV. She would have done a better job if she had actually gotten into the backseat, but what she did just leaning into the car would have to do.

"Tiffany, I need you to stay here while I get Brittany, ok? Look, I made you and Beth a tent, you have a pillow and your sleeping bag and you, Queenie, Beth and Lord Tubbington can hang out here while I get them. But you have to be quiet, ok? " Quinn whispered.

"Can I color?" Tiffany asked in a tiny, fearful voice, "My books and crayons are in my backpack."

"Yeah honey you can color. You just have to be quiet and you can't leave your tent. Don't wake up Beth, but if she does wake up, let her color okay? Do you understand Tiffany? Those monsters will _get_ you," Quinn didn't like the harsh tone she had to use, but it was important that Tiffany understand.

Tiffany nodded solemnly, her eyes wide, and clutched Queenie closer, putting a hand on Lord Tubbington.

"Alright, I'm going to get Brittany now," Quinn said, stepping back.

"And Santana?" Tiffany interrupted.

"Yes sweetie, Santana too," Quinn gave the smaller girl a smile she didn't feel inside, and continued, "Remember, don't leave the tent or make any noise ok? I'll be back soon, and we'll get away from the monsters."

Tiffany nodded gravely, and Quinn closed the door.

Somewhere, shoots were being fired. Feeling awful, Quinn sincerely hoped that all the zombies in town went that way, away from them.

The house stood large, dark, and mocking.

Quinn took heavy steps towards it, and found herself on the porch. She stared at the bright red door for a moment, then shakily opened it.

The door creaked open with foreboding. She stepped through it numbly. Holding her breath, she slapped it closed without thinking about it.

As large as the house seemed on the outside, inside it was homey and slightly cramped feeling even with the open floor plan, due to the cluttery knickknacks and overstuffed furniture.

Quinn had always liked it. Even if Santana's grandmother wasn't the nicest person, and she rarely smiled, she always had cookies, a home cooked meal, and helpful if entirely unasked for advice.

Quinn stepped carefully through the hall, alert.

Breathing shallowly again, because she smelled rot and death, she decided to through the house clockwise, starting at the kitchen and ending at the stairs.

Stepping lightly, Quinn walked slowly through kitchen, listening for a sound other then herself.

Even with the light streaming through the closed curtains, the house was dim. Quinn didn't dare turn on any of the lights, partly from worry it would attract attention, partly having it so ingrained from visits to this house to keep the lights off unless it was pitch black outside.

There was a body in the kitchen, a dish towel covering the face.

Blood pooled out and around it, making Quinn glad she was wearing boots. Stepping just outside the pool, she nudged the towel with her toe enough to make sure it wasn't Santana's body.

It wasn't.

Letting out another breath, she circled through the dining room, and then the living room where there were two more bodies, covered up by an ugly blanket that had belonged to a beloved dog long since dead.

These bodies didn't have a blood around them, and were almost lovingly resting on the carpeting.

Holding her breath, machete clutched in one hand, Quinn pulled the blanket off their faces. Quinn recognized them as another one of Santana's aunts, and a cousin.

It was hard to tell, but Quinn was sure they had been dead when they had died…again, and were placed here.

Quinn recovered them.

She stepped a little faster, a little louder, and opened the door to the small family bathroom in the hall next to the stairs.

Empty.

She flicked the strap off the gun holster so she'd be able to reach it easier if needed, knowing she was scared of going up those stairs, about what she might find. Santana had told her where her and Brittany were.

Scared or not, she needed to. Tiffany and Beth were waiting outside. There was no telling what could happen while she was gone.

Letting out another breath she didn't realize she had been holding, she carefully crept up the stairs. As she walked, she avoided looking at the pictures on the wall. So many of Santana's relatives. Pictures she had seen so many times.

The second floor of the house was dimmer then the first, due to less windows. But not dim enough for Quinn to not see the bloody handprint on the door to the master bedroom.

Or the group of walkers hammering the bathroom door, slowly splintering it. It wouldn't be long until whoever was in there was dinner. Quinn had gotten there just in time.

The walkers were all Santana's relatives, including the mistress of the house, no surprise. Quinn stared at the back of her head, tears in her eyes.

She pulled out her gun, and put that one down first.

At the noise, the others turned towards her, probably thinking she'd be an easier meal then Brittany and Santana. If they could think.

One by one they fell, Quinn firing every single bullet in her Glock, hitting maybe half of the walkers in the head. The ones she missed would fall from the bullet, then come crawling towards her.

Those she finished off with her machete, shoving the machete through their eye socket, trying not to throw up.

She stared at the pile of bodies for a moment, looking at one in particular. Santana's six year old cousin, Rosa. Quinn was glad she had gotten her in the head with a bullet, she didn't know if she had it in her to use her machete on sweet Rosa, to use something so up close that Quinn would have to look her in the eyes, now grimy with black goo trailing down from them.

That could have been Tiffany.

Shuddering, Quinn put the gun back in its holster, and stepped over the bodies and went to the bathroom door.

And opened it, machete at the ready. Just in case.

They were in the tub, Santana was standing protectively in front of Brittany, a bath towel rod in her hand that was obviously ripped off the wall.

"Hi," Quinn said, then she threw up all over the bathroom floor. As she threw up, she could feel a hand gently holding back her hair. When she was done, she saw that it had been Brittany. The trio just stared at each other for a few moments, before the Brittany helped Santana out of the tub.

Silently, Quinn stepped around her puke, trying to avoid it, and walked to the sink, rinsing her mouth out a few times with the water, then taking the mouth wash Brittany pulled out of a cupboard and handed her.

When she was done she said, "We need to get out of here, the gun's probably going to call those things from all over the neighborhood. Tiffany's in my car waiting with Lord Tubbington and Beth. She's fine."

Santana wiped away the tears on her face, and lovingly did the same to Brittany, who smiled at her. Whatever had happened to them in this house, it had obviously brought them…closer.

Quinn knew they had been plenty close before, and she was glad for them. A little jealous, a little uncomfortable, but glad for her friends.

Brittany handed Quinn a towel to wipe her face off and said in a hoarse voice, "Is she okay?"

"She's scared, but fine," a surge of anger went through her, and Quinn spat out, "Why was she all alone? If I hadn't gotten here…one of those things almost ate her!" Brittany frowned, and Santana had her hands covering her face. With a start, Quinn realized Santana was crying, silent as tears went down her face.

"Santana." Brittany put a light hand on the dark haired girl's shoulder, still frowning.

Santana clutched Brittany's hand, wiping her tears away with her other hand, and stared at Quinn defiantly, "You saved us Q. We would have died. How long did my dad tell her to put a real, openable window in this bathroom? The roof was right there, but we were trapped. My family….we didn't know if Tiffany was ok, I can't believe we left her in the SUV, but I saw my cousin and crashed and then those things were all around and I just took Brittany and ran into that house, expecting to see my family. All I could think about was saving Brittany, because I love her. I'm in love with her. I'm a lesbian and I'm in love with Brittany S Pierce. "

Quinn snorted, glad to have something that wasn't depressing news, "Like I didn't know that Santana, I've spent enough sleepovers with you guys, haven't I? I didn't always fall asleep first."

"It's not just sex, Quinn. This won't be a problem, right?" Santana stated looking at Quinn seriously.

"No. Unless you leave Tiffany or me or Beth and just save Brittany again without thinking," Quinn said, staring at Santana.

"She won't. She was just so scared that she wouldn't be able to admit to me how she feels, that it isn't just sex" Brittany said quietly, "and if you do it again Santana, no matter how I feel about you I won't ever forgive you for leaving Tiffany or Quinn or Beth? Ok? I'm still mad at you, but I'll forgive you this time."

Santana looked surprised at Brittany's words, sniffled a bit, then said, "Beth? Hold up, _Shelby,_ of all people decided to put her life and the life of your lizard baby in their plan. Really?"

Quinn looked away, "No. I went to check on Beth, and Shelby was bit. Told me to take Beth." Quinn felt like throwing up again, the lie sticking in her throat, "We need to get out of here, they like noise. Santana, I didn't see your little cousins out there," Quinn jerked a nod at the door, a little blossom of hope blooming inside her. If Santana and Brittany had survived, maybe some of the kids had hidden or something.

Santana stared at her, then looked away, "Abuela had put the kids in her room, older ones watching the little ones. They're still in there, with my mo- some adults." No one spoke, and Quinn felt like she'd been hit in the stomach, the sadness thick in the air, before finally Santana said, "I don't know how fast I'll be able to move, I," Santana tossed her hair flippantly, "hit my knee with my baseball bat and it's sore as hell."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at Santana, "What, like you haven't made mistakes before? I was a little distracted by Brittany's parents trying to eat us, and swung then stepped into it."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "If anyone asks, you should say you hit one of those things in the head with your knee. We better get out of here."

With Quinn and Brittany standing on either side of Santana to help her walk, the trio left the house, stopping only for Santana to grab her grandmother's favorite knitted blanket off the couch, her shawl, a couple of pictures off the wall, and the bags her mom had packed from their house for her. They shuffled as fast as they could the Quinn's car while helping Santana. The street was still clear.

Once more, Quinn opened Tiffany's door and moved the tent blanket aside, this time Brittany murmuring to her sister.

"Brittany!" Tiffany exclaimed upon seeing her older sister, utterly forgetting what Quinn had said about being quiet. Quinn recoiled away, and looked around warily, but the streets were still empty. The gun fire Quinn had heard before she went into the house had stopped, and Quinn wondered if the zombies had ate whoever had been firing, and were coming here next.

As Tiffany asked Brittany why she had left her, shivering, Quinn helped Santana into the passenger seat. "Keep an eye out for any of those things, " she muttered once Santana was settled into the seat, "And if you see some, say something instead of grabbing Brittany and leaving," Quinn couldn't help but add meanly, still mad at Santana for just leaving Tiffany.

Santana looked at her with as much remorse as Quinn has ever seen her have, which lasted a few seconds before Santana glared at her then flipped her hair and started watching the street around them.

Quinn heaved the duffle bag, and suit case Mrs. Lopez had packed for Santana to the back of the SUV, hauling them into the cargo area. She jogged back to Santana's SUV, and easily found Brittany's things, and didn't even wonder what was in boxes in the back before she lugged Brittany's things back to her SUV, and fit them in snuggly inside, slamming the hatchback shut when she was done.

Taking deep breaths, Quinn hopped into the driver's seat, shoving her backpack aside, buckled her seat belt, then started the car. She waited a minute for Brittany to move Lord Tubbington's cage and sit in the middle of the seat, and get Tiffany buckled up, then drove away. She ignored the tears in Santana's eyes as the brunette wiped them away, ignored Brittany explaining to Tiffany that their parents had gone away to Heaven and they wouldn't see them for a long long time, and Tiffany's subsequent sobbing. She licked her lips, and reached with one hand into her backpack, searching until she found her ipod. She shoved her mom's iPod out of the way, not noticing as it went under the passenger seat, and plugged in hers in its place. She pressed play, then focused fully on the road and taking deep breaths in time to the beat of No Doubt's "Tragic Kingdom", clutching the steering wheel tightly, the world seemingly fading away except for the road and the SUV.

She had her daughter, and Brittany and Santana were safe. She had come so close to losing them forever. Even when she had went full Skank, even if Santana had enjoyed being top dog for once, they had reached out to her, not giving up on her and their friendship.

Everything would be okay now, they'd get to the cabin and everything, and everyone, would be okay. She had done what she'd needed to do, what she'd _had_ to do, and everything was okay. It had to be.

* * *

A/N:

Santana's Text: "**go b sum zoms appetizer britts and I r going to abuelas**"

Translation: "Go be some zombie's appetizer. Brittany and I are going to my grandmother's."


	3. 18 Wheeler

She was fairly certain they had been walking for almost an hour. Rachel's feet hurt, she was confident she was getting blisters, if the pain as she walked was any indication and her arm ached from pulling her suitcase behind her for so long.

And none of that mattered.

Her daddy was _dead_. Killed senselessly by some foolish scared boy, and just left to die. And, Rachel realized with a start, only just now clearly seeing herself, she was covered in his blood. Rachel started to gag, her steps faltering. It was only a glance at her papa's form, now a few steps in front of her that made her swallow down her disgust. Rachel couldn't break down right now, she _couldn't_. He needed her to be strong. Desperation to clean her father's blood off of her clawed at her insides, dimmed only slightly by the controlled breathing she forced herself to do, her focus on the pain of her blisters, and their surroundings.

They have had to keep retracing their steps to avoid large groups of the undead. Even faced with running with their belongings, Rachel was only vaguely apprehensive about the shambling corpses dripping black goo from their eyes and wounds; it still did not seem real, that Rachel would wake up soon from her horrible nightmare, brought on by Finn cajoling her into watching some of his gory zombie movies the night before.

She had lived in Lima for as long as she could remember and never before had the streets seemed so menacing. Who knew what one would find when they turned a corner, or went through a back alley. Her father, quite rightly, had decided to avoid people. Rachel had not even attempted to reason with him when he had pulled her into a thoroughly broken into tiny Check into Cash office to hide behind the counter while a convoy of vehicles passed them, especially when she recognized several of her high school peers in some of the cars, and none of them any she would consider friendly faces, although she was half certain one of them had been a member of the band.

If they had treated her as they did when there were rules and laws, even with the ineffective teachers and principal of McKinley, she did not wish to know how they would treat her now, even with her remaining father's presence.

Remembering some of the slurs they had thrown at her about her dads, she had amended that that to "especially" with her remaining father's presence. She had not necessarily thought they would immediately torture or murder them, or anything such as that, but then again she had not thought she would be covered in her daddy's blood, walking through Lima towards what was hopefully freedom and salvation from zombies, either. Given her father's clear distrust of people at the moment, she highly doubted he would have allowed her to make their presence known to the convey anyway.

So she followed faithfully behind her dad, each step aching, and trying not to think about her daddy's body sitting on the side of the road, or the fact that she was covered in his blood. Her remaining father did not need her going into hysterics right now, and it took all of her considerable acting ability to place one foot in front of another without allowing any of the tears trying to break free, out. She was self aware to know that once she started crying, she would not be able to function or stop crying for a while.

Her father was leading them with a dogged determination she liked to think she had inherited, when he stopped short. They were in a small alleyway in the most Lima residents sneered and called "Hippy Street". It housed the handful of buildings in Lima that catered exclusively to vegetarians, vegans, and those who wished to better themselves and their environment. Rachel bought her all natural, organic soy soaps from a tiny store here, and in the summer's most of the Berry households grocery shopping was done at the organic, locally grown only farmer's market in a parking lot just a few hundred feet from where they were. At first she thought he was allowing her to fill the few steps behind him to walk beside him, but he cocked his head to the side and stared at the backdoor to the only yoga studio in town, and said, "Rachel, do you hear that?" He whispered to her softly, obviously conscientious that anything or anyone out there could hear them.

She licked her normally well moisturized lips, stepping closer to him, and listened, finally whispering, her voice hoarse, "Papa, it sounds like a baby crying."

Looking grim, LeRoy said, "We need to find him. We can't just…"

"Or her, but yes, of course we need to Papa."

"We'll leave our suitcases out here, Pumpkin, they should be fine," LeRoy said, trailing off and looking at the door to the yoga studio with trepidation.

At the thought of a baby that had no one answering his or her's cries, a baby that needed the remaining Berry's to rescue her and care for her, Rachel felt a renewed sense of energy. It was clear, as the pair of them pulled their suitcases next to the wall, that LeRoy felt it too. His eyes look less shadowed, and he looked less hollow, and more determined.

As LeRoy opened the door, Rachel wondered what had happened to the child's mother that it would end up left alone in Lima's yoga studio. Her thoughts then trailed to the other's reactions when Rachel finally met them again with, less one father and with a baby. Some deep, maternal feeling welled in Rachel, and she pitied the poor child, and his or her's mother. She would care for him or her like the baby was her own, she swore to herself without quite knowing why. Perhaps she was simply reacting to today's events, and she would come to her senses later. It was imprudent, she knew, caring for a child while there were zombies running around would no doubt be difficult, but likely not nearly as difficult as it would be to care for a child while attaining her dreams of Broadway. But that would be months, years from now, and she would have plenty of time to make it work. She would be a good mother, she thought, she would. And perhaps, with the zombies, a majority of other Broadway hopefuls, and current Broadway stars, would be removed from the running making Rachel's dreams of stardom that much easier to attain.

She perked up at the thought, a tiny bit of hope growing through her before shame at wishing to gain from so many lives lost blossomed in its place.

As they stepped through the door, Rachel slipped a hand onto the strap of LeRoy's messenger bag. She would much prefer to hold his hand, but it would not be prudent since he still had the rifle and would have to defend them if needed.

Silently, her papa lead them through down the hall, the back exit they had entered through apparently tucked away in the very back, little used area of the studio if the cluttered boxes lined up in the hall were any indication. They made their way through, passing a small employee area that lead to the rest of the brightly lit studio and an office, to where a door stood closed. The crying was loudest from here.

LeRoy motioned for Rachel to get behind him, and she stepped quickly to do so, her heart beating wildly.

LeRoy eagerly opened the door, and Rachel heard a muttered, "Oh…damn it, " then he sighed, and quickly moved to block her view of inside.

"What is it Papa?" All she could see was that it was a supply closet with a stroller parked inside. Meanwhile, the baby's cry's continued, and Rachel could feel a headache forming. She longed to comfort the baby anyway, but now doing so would hopefully get him or her to stop crying.

"Rachel darling, do not look," LeRoy whispered back. In the dim light of the back rooms, he looked older beyond his years as she stared at him in confusion.

"Is…is something wrong with the baby papa?"

"I think…something happened here, and her mother put her in the closet so she'd be safe."

"So what is wrong Papa? Surely the baby must tired, wet and hungry by now?" Rachel felt a growing sense of horror deep in the pit of her stomach.

"…She-it must have gotten bit before it's mother could get to it. I don't know how it's still crying, but I don't want you to have to see this Rachel. It's…just please don't look."

Rachel felt tears pool in her eyes, and unable to contain the sob she let out, Rachel turned away, and saw her father raise the rifle out of the corner of her eye.

With a sickening, and very loud bang that seemed to echo through Rachel's bones, the crying mercifully stopped.

"We need to leave Pumpkin. I'm afraid there's nothing here for us," LeRoy said bleakly, staring at the stroller for a moment before he stepped back, and closed the supply closet door firmly.

Taking a few deep breaths to have control of herself once again, she nodded, and desiring to stir some hope inside them both, added, "Perhaps we will find a vehicle."

"Maybe we will…" LeRoy trailed off as loud growls seemed to get louder.

Rachel and her father both whirled around, and Rachel could only stare in horror at the sight.

A dozen yoga goers, apparently alerted to their presence from the rifle fire, crowded into the hallway from the employee area, making that hallway even dimmer since their red, swollen bodies blocked off the bright light from the rest of the studio.

Apparently, there had been a "Mommy and Me" yoga class going on, and none of the woman had heard about what was happening. None of the slings, or baby backpacks on any of the walking corpses held a baby, just a gore covered mess on torn straps.

Rachel felt the bile rise up in her throat, as once more tears pooled in her eyes. Those poor poor babies, they never had a chance.

"Rachel, stay calm pumpkin, we have to run. We'll be alright." LeRoy muttered, a note of hysteria in his voice as he shifted the rifle so he could hold onto it with one hand comfortably, then reached out with his other hand to Rachel. She grabbed it, needing the comfort, even if it would likely impede their running. Warily, for a moment the pair stared at the mass of zombies, now temporarily stuck in the doorway because they were too brainless to realize if they all tried to go through, they wouldn't make it.

The ones in front were struggling to break free, waving their arms in the hallway.

LeRoy ran, bringing Rachel with him. Every step was painful, but Rachel took no notice as she struggled to keep up with her father. The pair pressed themselves against the boxes against the wall, while trying to go as fast as they could. For a moment, Rachel hated the owner of this studio for keeping boxes in the hall, for the layout, for being open today, then guiltily pushed that thought aside; the owner had no idea what would happen, that their customers would turn into zombies, feast upon their own children, then try to kill Rachel and her surviving father.

"Just stick closely to the boxes Pumpkin, " her father muttered, "And be as fast as you can," he finished with a little sigh. Rachel immediately picked up her speed, even though it hurt her terribly to do so.

The exit was so close, Rachel knew, they just had to get past those hands and gnashing teeth. Rachel barely had time to second guess their path, when her father was pulling her through the small space in-between the arms and boxes, the finger's of the grasping zombies just barely skimming them. A box fell, hitting her painfully on the shoulder, causing Rachel to instinctively step away.

Right into the waiting arms, ready to pull Rachel to their teeth where they would try to get her brains, Rachel realized dazedly as she was pulled from her father's grasp. This was it, this was how she died. Not murdered by an obsessed fan, or very tragically on stage, or mysteriously that would have people arguing if she had faked her death, and was still alive somewhere retired from her fame.

Most of them seemed try to grab at her, and her clothing without thought, missing, just forever attempting to grab her. One managed to grab her hair, another grabbed her backpack, and yet another had her sleeve tightly held in her -it's clutches. She had barely been able to utter, "Papa," before her father, obviously realizing she was in trouble, turned around, and with several frantic stops towards her, starting hitting the things with the rifle butt, with -not with determination, but with desperation.

Rachel struggled and tried to pull away, tears falling freely from her eyes as she desperately tried to escape the grasps of the undead that held her. She could feel their nails digging into her clothes, pressure points hit her all over as she struggled to escape. Next to her, her father was roaring at her to pull away, alternating with pleading with the zombies to let her go as he hopelessly pummeled zombies with the rifle butt.

Desperate, as she tried to pull away, she started trying to pull boxes onto the zombies, frantic and hopeless. The zombies took no notice of what boxes she managed to get to fall, most weren't hitting them but landing dangerously near her anyway, and she felt herself budging inch by inch towards their hungry mouths. Something hit her, getting caught up on her sleeve and an arm. Frantically, she grabbed it. A box cutter. She slide it open, clumsy with panic, almost dropping it.

She hacked. And hacked and hacked. A clump of hair was pulled towards a hungry mouth. A sleeve, too. The fingers holding her backpack. All the arms. She hacked and cut and sliced. And finally, mercifully, her father was pulling her away, towards the door.

They burst out the back door, and her father took a moment to close the door and grab their suitcases, and then he was running hard, pulling Rachel away. Some part of Rachel knew it would be easier to leave their suitcases behind, but understood why her father had grabbed them. They had left so much behind already.

Rachel realized now with absolute clarity; Hiram wasn't going to be buried. He was going to rot away on the side of the road, next to the Berry's belongings. More tears fell as they ran. Broadway was gone. If Rachel and her father even made it to the rest stop, Kurt, Finn -and quite possibly all the New Directions were likely dead as well. All she had left in this world was her father.

LeRoy was panting heavily by the time he slowed them down, pulling them into a small alley that was empty. He slumped down against the walk, catching his breath for a moment before reaching into his messenger bag and silently handing Rachel a bottle of water.

She thought of how, whenever she was sad, one of her dads would bring her a glass of water, and swallowed heavily, wiping her eyes with what she hoped was a clean bit of sleeve. She dropped the box cutter she still clutched in her grimy, gore covered hand, and took the bottle. She opened it, and drank half before handing the rest to him.

When he finished it in one big gulp, he softly said, "Are you okay? You are, right Pumpkin?"

At first, she nodded only not trusting herself to say anything, but then took a deep breath and said, "Yes Papa. I would like to clean up, and find a mirror to see how misshapen my hair is, but there are obviously more pressing matters."

He half smiled, "You're missing a big clump, but I'll cut the other side, and no one will notice."

Softly, she said, "If…if I had not found that box cutter."

He looked down the opposite end of the alley, then LeRoy said softly, "What if we hadn't heard that baby…what if we had, but decided we didn't want to save it? You did find that box cutter Pumpkin."

She looked at him in horror, "Why would we not try to save it? She was a baby, we could not have known that she was…that somehow she was still crying"

Her father looked at her seriously, "This world…The man and his family…he did a horrible thing, taking our car. He didn't mean to have your daddy die, but he knew what he was doing leaving us on the side of that road. He tried to make himself feel better by leaving the rifle, to help his guilt. But he was doing what he had to do protect his family. I could have easily said that we weren't going to go into a building that could have been very dangerous, to save a child that wasn't ours, an infant that would require a lot of care."

"You wouldn't have said that though Papa," Rachel looked at him wide eyed.

He smiled softly at her, "No, I wouldn't have. Children are innocents, and they deserve a chance to live…but if it had been someone calling for help…I would like to say that I would have helped them escape, Pumpkin. But I have you to think of, and…" he sighed, "I would have had to think very strongly about it. The man and his family…they did what they had to do to, he put them above us, total strangers. I like to think I wouldn't have done the same thing, but if it had been your daddy and you with me in a broken car on the side of a road, with those things slowly but surely heading towards us…"

Rachel shaking her head, still staring at her father, "No Papa, what that man did was horrible. You would not have been so…so _evil_."

Her father sighed again, "I would likely not have been able to sleep well at night, darling, but I would have done it to save you and..Hi- your father. He wasn't…evil, he was just trying to keep his family safe. I..think the world we woke up to yesterday morning is very different from the one we're in right now. And I hope you won't ever, ever, have to make a choice like that darling." Seeing the look on Rachel's face, LeRoy added, "You won't as long as I'm here, I promise you Rachel, you won't have to make those choices for a long long time. I'll keep you safe, and alive, and I won't let anyone hurt you."

Rachel forced herself to not frown, still mulling over what her father had just said.

Her father stilled, and looked back down towards the opposite end of the alley, "Do you hear that darling?"

She cocked her head to the side, and quieted her breathing. It was someone cursing.

Silently, leaving their suitcases, they edged towards the opening of the alley. Across the road, in a parking lot there was a figure using a crowbar on a pair of zombies.

Taking a few deep breaths, and pushing aside her father's words to think about later, Rachel turned to her father and whispered, "Papa, I know that girl. She is one of Quinn's new friends."

The Mack. Rachel had, using her connections in the office looked up all of Quinn's new friends. The Mack's real name was Anastasia Mcintire. She had been a member of Vocal Adrenaline, and Quinn had first met her when they joined the Unwed Mothership Connection around the same time. She had transferred to their high school sometime last year. Rachel had toyed with the idea of, after getting Quinn to rejoin Glee club, extending the invitation to The Mack. Carefully. Through Quinn. Since the girl clearly had the pedigree to help them win.

LeRoy raised an eyebrow, "One of the ones that wished to beat you up? Pumpkin I'm not sure…"

"She merely asked Quinn if she could, but Quinn said no."

"Well, that seems rather out of character for Quinn Fabray, not allowing someone to harm you."

Rachel flushed, "Quinn has been rather out of sorts lately Papa."

"Clearly, if she's protecting you instead of making you cry," LeRoy said with an edge in his voice, "Pumpkin.."

Her dad's did not care for Quinn, Santana, or even Brittany, and Rachel understood why. But if she could let bygones be bygones, then so could LeRoy. Rachel would admit to, at one point, silently wishing for karma to come in and make life hell for those who bullied and taunted her, but settling down with Finn had gone a long way to making her more accepted, at least with the rest of her fellow glee clubbers. And now was not the time for such petty things.

"She may be able to give us a ride, Papa," Rachel pointed out, "Surely the promise of a safe area, with Quinn who she is friends with, will entice her to allow us into her car. I'll go speak to her, she may be fearful of a man."

LeRoy looked at the girl clobbering the two zombies in the parking lot with a crowbar, then down at his daughter. "It looks like she's got a handle on those things, but be careful just in case she missed one. I don't want to have to use the rifle." He leaned tiredly against the wall again, and started reloading it. Rachel knew their trek hadn't been easy on him, and the fight, the baby, and losing Hiram on top of that…she'd get them a ride, for his sake.

Tentatively, Rachel left him, and walked towards where the Mack, having finished putting down the pair of zombies, was considering the three vehicles in the parking lot.

"Anastasia?" Rachel said when she was close enough not to have to yell too loudly. As a rule she didn't tend to use nicknames, to Noah's annoyance.

Snarling, the Mack turned towards Rachel. "What did you just call me Berry? You are so lucky Quinn said you were off limits. Although maybe I can claim extreme circumstances and pay her fifty bucks to make up for it," she finished, glaring at the smaller girl.

"I would think, given the circumstances, a case of water would be more appropriate pay to Quinn to beat me up."

The Mack snorted, and gave Rachel a lazy grin. Rachel assumed that meant Rachel had met with approval. She turned from Rachel and selected a newish looking Toyota station wagon. She tried the handle, and finding the door unlocked grinned at the car. She opened the door, and started fiddling with the underside under the steering wheel, whacking it a few times with her crowbar, before pulling the paneling off and doing something Rachel couldn't see with the wiring.

"The Mack. My father and I were wondering if you could, perhaps, give us a ride. We-"

"I thought you had two dads Berry," Mack interrupted her.

"I did."

"Sorry."

"It is…not okay, but with time, hopefully, it will be one day. May I inquire about your family, Mack?"

"You may," The Mack replied a little snidely. Rachel assumed she wasn't being as snide as she could be, "My parents and sister are on their way to Wright Patterson, they were fine when we said goodbye. "

"You just, just _left_ them? And they_ let_ you?" Rachel could not understand willingly leaving your family, at all, given the circumstances.

"No biggie. We aren't close, and I was going to leave them anyway when I graduated. This is just a few months early, with zombies instead of college boys."

"Did they react horribly about your pregnancy? I recall you were in the Unwed Mothership Connection with Quinn. Your dancing performance was excellent, especially considering how pregnant you were. Although I suppose that's to be expected of a Vocal Adrenaline alumni, " Rachel asked, still not understanding how anyone would just leave their family.

The Mack sat up from the seat, and glared at Rachel, baring her teeth as she snarled, "Let's get two things straight Rachel whatever the hell your middle name is Berry. Don't call me Anastasia. No one's called me _that_ since kindergarten. It's The Mack, or just Mack. Secondly, don't mention my pregnancy. Don't ask about my baby. Ever. Understand?"

Looking at Mack clutching the crowbar, Rachel had the feeling the other girl was barely stopping herself from hitting Rachel. "I do. I am sorry Mack."

"Don't_ forget_. Go get your dad. I'm glad this isn't my car, if he's half as dirty as you are." The Mack glared at her, then leaned back down and fiddled with the wires again, causing the car to start. She pushed the button back hatch open button, and stepped out. She picked up her heavy looking army duffle bag, and messenger bag, tossed both into the back and looked at Rachel expectantly. "Hurry, in case any of those things heard the car."

Rachel murmured, "Of course," and went back to where her father was waiting.

"Papa, we have a ride…papa?"

Her father looked up at her, his skin had gone red, as if he had a horrible sunburn. "Rachel. Pumpkin." And held up his right hand. Two of his fingers looked like they had been barely scrapped with teeth. The wound was black, and had pus and black goo seeping out of it. "I didn't realize that I had been…not even bit, but I guess it was enough darling. I'm so sorry, so so sorry."

"No. Papa, _no._"

"Here, come get the rifle. You're going to need it, you still remember how to shoot right pumpkin?"

"Yes, but-"

"Take our ring's darling too. I collected your Daddy's while we moved him. Put them on your necklace, so you don't lose them," Shaking, he pulled off his ring, and Hiram's, and handed them to her, and obediently she unlatched her necklace, and added the rings to either side of the large star charm. "I put photos in your backpack. Take my messenger bag, it has the ammo for the rifle, a case and a box worth, it should last a while, and important papers like your birth certificate. I don't know if you'll need them, but…" his body shuddered, stealing his words for a few seconds." But just in case, you'll have the papers," he finally finished, sounding exhausted from the sheer effort.

Rachel felt like she should say something, anything, but was at a loss for words.

"What's taking so long?" The Mack asked, walking up to where the pair was huddled, holding her crowbar nonchalantly.

"My papa, he is…" Rachel said in a small voice, not turning towards Mack.

Mack looked at LeRoy, "Well. Crap. "

LeRoy pulled off Hiram's coat, and handed it to Rachel. Instead of putting it aside, she took off her backpack, and put it on over her gore covered and missing sleeved sweater, pulling the collar so she could sniff the cologne Hiram and LeRoy both favored. She would get them a huge bottle of it for Hanukkah, and they'd share it. It smelled like home, and for a brief second she pretended that everything was okay.

Swallowing thickly, she shifted her backpack back on, and with tears in her eyes, she looked at her father, and accepted the bulging messenger bag, pulling it on without bothering to re-size the strap, so it fell to almost to her knees instead of her hips.

He took a deep breath, and said, "Maybe Broadway is out now, Rachel, but that doesn't mean you can't still be the best you can be. You're a star darling, you'll live. You need to. I can't…I need you to promise me you'll survive this Pumpkin. Promise me you'll be _strong_. That'll you'll die old and surrounded by great grand children._ Promise_..."

"I promise Papa. I promise," Rachel whispered, and leaned towards him for one last hug.

After she hugged him as long as they both dared, she pulled away, silently taking the offered rifle from him.

LeRoy looked at his daughter, then the rifle in her hands, and silently asking her before, with a long sigh, he closed his eyes. His face had started to swell up slightly now, and foul black liquid was starting to leak from his ears and eyes.

"Rachel, hand me the gun, I'll…just hand me the gun already Berry," The Mack said after a long moment.

"I…I appreciate that Mack, thank you. I will not forget you offered...but this is something I should -I _need_, to do myself."

Rachel stepped back, pulling her suitcase with her, then took a deep breath, raised the rifle, and killed her father before he could finish turning into one of those things.

Numbly she stood there for a second, before she turned back to the Mack. "Undoubtedly that has called any of those things that are nearby. Please take my suitcase to the car, I will be there shortly."

Silently (Rachel had a feeling that was a rarity for the Mack, and she was grateful) The Mack did as Rachel asked. Taking precious seconds, Rachel very carefully pushed her father's body flat onto the ground, not looking at his ruined face. She unbelted his sleeping bag from his suitcase, unrolled it, and covered him as best as she could.

Fingering the rings on her necklace, after half a seconds hesitation, she unzipped his suitcase and pulled out three of his sleeveless undershirts. They would make serviceable, if overly large, tank tops. This way should would have something from both her father's, the coat for winter, the undershirts for when it was warm.

Stuffing the tank tops into one of the coat's pockets, Rachel clutched the rifle, turned and headed to the car.

The Mack was sitting on the hood waiting for her, when she saw Rachel coming out of the small alleyway, she jumped off and went to the driver side, calling over her shoulder, "Hop in, we're getting the hell outta here."

Silently, Rachel went to the passenger side, and opened the door. Pulling off her backpack and messenger bag, she put both in the backseat, before sitting down. She set the rifle on her lap, pointing towards the door, then buckled her belt.

Mack did the same, the put the car in reverse, and pulled out of the parking spot. Shifting, she looked at Rachel, "Aren't you going to ask where I'm driving to?"

Blinking, Rachel turned towards her, "If you could drop me off at the rest stop to the north-east of town, I would appreciate it. It's only a few miles out, and should be relatively easy to get to now that we're in a vehicle."

The Mack gave her a small grin, "That's where I was heading anyway. Quinn texted."

"Will any of the other…Skanks be joining us there?"

"Nah, Ronnie's family high-tailed it out to her uncle's place this morning, and Shelia's a foster kid. All foster parents in the area were ordered to take the kids and go to Wright Patterson. Last I heard from her, she was planning on ditching her foster parents and going to find her dad, " Mack answered with a shrug.

After a few minutes of silence, Rachel pulled her legs up into the seat, wrapped her arms around them, and set the rifle on top of her knees. She stared out the window while Mack began going through the radio stations. Finally, tentatively, she worked up enough courage to ask, "Do you think, perhaps, we could take a side trip? My father…" she swallowed heavily, "My other father's body was just…on the side of the road. I would…it would mean a lot if we could at least…"

Mack turned to her, hand still on the radio.

"I think we can drive by. If it's safe enough, we can…what, exactly?"

"Perhaps…perhaps we could take my Father's body from the alley, and Daddy's body…" Rachel stared out the window towards the alley where her father's body was. Finally, she said, "Home."

"I don't think we'll have enough time to dig a hole Berry," Mack said, licking her lips, "But if it's safe, or at least not total chaos, we could take them home. Maybe."

Rachel managed a smile. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me Berry, haven't done anything yet."

Mack reversed back to the alley, driving the car in carefully. Stiffly, once the car was parked (but still on) Rachel got out, and stepped watchfully to her Father's body, Mack close behind her.

"Berry," Mack said softly, pulling the sleeping back off her father's corpse and laying it down on the ground.

Rachel managed to not look above his chest, as she started tugging his foot towards the car. "Berry," Mack said softly again, "Let's put his...him on the sleeping bag. "

Together, they managed to get LeRoy's body onto the bag, then Mack swiftly folded the sleeping bag over, covering it. It took a lot of effort, and some shoving, but they managed to get his body into the back of the station wagon.

Once back in the car, Rachel managed to give directions to where they had been forced to abandon Hiram's body.

There were still zombies around, but not nearly as much as there could have been. To her absolute horror, some had shoved aside the sheet and munched on her father's body, and much of his arms, chest, and legs were gone. Tears pricked her eyes, and she let out a little sob.

Mack rushed forward, and covered Hiram's body back up.

"Look there's not…I got this. Why don't you look through these boxes, maybe there's stuff you want? Or food or something we can take with us."

Rachel stood for a moment, just staring at the various totes. She didn't need her various scrap books, it would be foolish to take the time to get them. LeRoy had collected photographs, which were in her backpack, but, she decided, it would be nice to have the complete photo album even if it would take up quite a lot of space.

She rummaged through and found the soft velvet, a lovely purple color with white inlaid letters that said "Berry." The purple and white had been her father's wedding colors, and the photo album had been carefully kept since before they got married, chronicling their life up until their family photo last month. Of course there were other photo albums devoted to just Rachel herself, but this one, this was just her parents, and then her once she joined them. It was the _family_ album. She flipped through the pages, noting the blank spots where LeRoy had pulled out photos.

The book was thick, and its heavy weigh made it almost impractical to take.

Impractical it may be, but still she set it safely inside the station wagon next to her other belongings. She turned towards the totes, and started lugging the ones containing dry goods and canned food towards the station wagon. She pulled three of them to it, (needing Mack's help to actually get them inside).

Mack had laid her daddy's body on top of her father's body, and grabbed another sheet to cover them up.

The smell made Rachel wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Anything else you want Berry? We need to get out of here," Mack said from where she had been standing rummaging through things.

"I…" Rachel searched her mind, before deciding, "Just one thing, yes."

"Make it quick, I'll get these," Mack gestured to the three totes she was next to, "To the wagon and we can get it all in there and get outta here."

Rachel looked at the approaching zombies, and nodded.

She quickly delved into one of the totes containing sheets and blankets, and searched through it until she found what she was looking for. A quilt the women in Hiram's family had made the two men as a wedding gift. It was beautiful, hand sewn, with a pinwheel and square pattern, and had meant a lot to her father's. She was quite sure that leaving it behind had almost been as bad as leaving behind Hiram, for her father.

It was kept in pristine condition, and the colors were still as vibrant as when it was first made almost nineteen years ago. A fresh wave of sadness went through her as she realized her dads would not be going on the "Around the World" tour they had been talking about for their twentieth anniversary, nor would they attend the carefully organized surprise party she had been starting to plan. She pulled it out, and a sheet which she wrapped around it to kept it clean.

She set it carefully in the car, then helped Mack get the three totes and tent Mack had picked out (full of camping supplies) and the three Rachel had, in.

Before Rachel knew it, they were in the car driving towards her house.

It became, to her sadness, apparent they would not be able to get there. The streets were clogged with zombies and cars.

"Sorry Berry," Mack muttered as she turned the car around, "What now? I think there's a nice park nearby, or hell, a cemetery?"

Rachel was silent for a moment, before saying, "Perhaps we could take them to my grandmother's house? They were always fond of grandmother's garden, and while it's gone a bit wild since she died, the roses will still be in bloom..." and snuggled closer into her father's jacket.

Mack narrowed her eyes at the zombies in the road, but, to Rachel's gratefulness, simply nodded.

They didn't speak much in the drive to her grandmother's cottage, just when Rachel needed to give Mack more directions.

The ride was all too short for Rachel. Even though she was sure Mack was regretting her generosity in moving Rachel's father's bodies, as the smell in the station wagon was starting to overpower even the smell of corpses coming from outside the car.

Mack would have her everlasting gratitude for her act of kindness, and for not mentioning the smell, Rachel thought as Mack reversed and parked the car backwards in the driveway, leaving it running. Rachel would repay her, Rachel swore as teary eyed, she got out of the car a little slower then Mack.

Together, they pulled the sleeping bag and sheet covered bundle out of the back of the station wagon. It landed with a distressing thump on the ground, and Rachel froze for a second. She just stared as Mack dragged the bundle the rest of the way up the driveway, towards the gate to the backyard. A growl down the street that was quickly joined by more growling and moans made her move to assist Mack. Together, they quickly pulled her father's into the backyard, next to the biggest cluster of rose bushes.

Rachel would have liked to stay a few minutes, and perhaps say some words (she didn't think she could, as tragic as it was, sing something right now,) but Mack grabbed her hand and pulled her to the car.

Rachel couldn't be upset with Mack, as the growling and moaning was closer, and louder. Indeed, zombies were starting to shamble past the next door neighbors yard when they reached the car. Mack flung herself into the driver's seat and slammed the door, and was buckling her seat belt by the time Rachel had closed her door. Mack put the car in drive, and sped the car up, and past the zombies.

As she drove to the rest stop, Mack started fiddling with the radio again.

The stations that weren't static were playing the same message over and over.

**"The United States of America is in marshal law. All civilians are ordered to stay in their homes. If your home is compromised, and you are in immediate danger, please go to your nearest military base. Any bitten or infected individuals arriving at any base will be executed. The President will have a state of the union address to update United State citizens in two days time, on Friday, September 23rd at 3 pm eastern standard time. "**

Rachel closed her eyes, trying to replace the image of her father's dead bodies, with the image from the night before. Of them sitting together at the piano, singing a duet, all three of them happy and laughing. She fingered the wedding rings on her necklace, lost in memories.

Rachel opened her eyes when Mack said, "Finally. Thought we were never going to get here," as she pulled onto the rest stop's entrance. Rachel did not know how long it had taken them to drive there. She put her knees down, and sat up, leaning forward to get a look at who was here. To her disappointment, she did not see anything to indicate Finn or Kurt were here. She swallowed down the surety that they were dead, that she was here with no one who truly cared about her, that she…she was alone. She hated herself, but for a brief moment she thought about sticking to Mack like glue, because at the very least Mack had shown her a great kindness she very much doubted anyone else would have.

Mack snorted when Puck directed her to a part of the horseshoe shape the other vehicles were in, but did as the mohawked boy directed. Mack parked, flung off her seat belt, and fiddled with the wires under the steering wheel. The car shut off, and Mack opened the door to greet Puck, who had stalked towards them, a look of clear confusion on his face.

"Rachel?" he said, and nodded towards Mack, "What's with her?"

"Leave her alone," Mack rolled her eyes, "Quinn invited me. Take it up with her."

"Quinn? Well..whatever" Puck said, "More ladies the better," He shot a grin at Mack, who rolled her eyes again.

"Finn'll be here in like an hour or so Rachel. Kurt, Blaine, and Burt went to get Blaine's family. Finn's with Louise packing or something," Puck whooped a little reading his phone, then quickly typed out a reply, "Finn say's 'hey' Rachel. Oh, and Louise decided they're taking Jacob Ben Israel here."

As if her day could not get any worse, now she would be spending the apocalypse with Jacob Ben Israel. Hopefully Finn's presence would be enough to detour Jacob's attention. Puck gave Mack a grin, and nodded at Rachel, before meandering back to his table.

Rachel stared at the dashboard. Finn and Kurt were, at the moment, alive. A little hope blossomed through her; perhaps she was being dramatic. Perhaps she was not being realistic about anything, that she was still in shock, and Broadway, and the rest of her dreams, weren't dead at all.

She took a few more deep breaths, and wrapped her arms around herself. Everything would be better when Finn got here.


	4. Carry on my Wayward Son

Quinn had a headache forming in the back of her head. Santana had silently reached over and paused Quinn's iPod after the song had ended, and Quinn didn't have it in her to insist it stay on. Now it seemed like she could hear everyone's heart beats, their breathing, the hum of the wheels, and Tiffany's occasional whimper.

Santana had, during the time it had taken to drive to the rest stop, found a regulation Cheerio pony tail holder somewhere, and pulled her hair up, and if Quinn didn't know better she'd think Santana was fine, if not a little bored.

Carefully, Quinn pulled into the side road that lead to the rest stop. The set up of the rest stop was simple; a grassy area surrounding by road, parking lot, road, and truck parking lot. The grassed area was large, maybe an acres worth, with a large brick building containing the male and female bathrooms, and a covered area branching off that had three cement picnic tables on a cement patio that faced the truck parking lot, as well as picnic tables placed here and there throughout the grassy area.

Quinn followed the road though the car parking lot, to the big rig parking lot, where she vaguely recognized all the vehicles parked there, except for a station wagon. She was surprised there weren't any big rigs around. The cars that were there were in a vague horseshoe shape, with Puck standing in the middle along with a table, and chairs. At the top of the horseshoe of cars on the grass at the closest picnic table sat Puck's mom, sister, and Sam's siblings.

She pulled into the parking space Puck indicated, and turned off the car. They sat in it for a moment silently before Tiffany asked, her voice tiny and scared, "Are the monsters here?"

Santana turned to look at the pair of blondes in the backseat, her high Cheerio regulation pony tail bobbing, "It's safe here Tiff. And soon we'll be even safer."

As Brittany and Santana consoled Tiffany, Quinn unbuckled her seatbelt, and tossed the car keys in her backpack, slinging it on after she stepped outside the car. They were parked a few cars away from Mr. Schue's crappy car, and Quinn could hear them talking quietly.

"These kids need you now, more than ever Will. Hopefully more than a few parents have survived as well, but as far as we are aware, you, Mrs. Puckerman, and myself are all that's left. While it's frightening, you need to step up into the leadership role. Yes..."

"I know Emma, I know, it's just all so-"

She frowned as she walked over to Beth's door and looked at her daughter. She had never really cared for Mr. Schue's last minute planning, and, frankly, lackluster leadership. And now, with lives on the line? She shuddered a little at the thought, and reached in and pulled the blanket off Beth.

Beth was stirring, still in that middle ground of not yet awake, but not quite asleep either. Quinn watched her for a moment, before unbuckling her, wrapping a blanket on her to keep the goo from transferring off Quinn onto Beth, and just holding her baby in her arms. She snuggled the toddler, just enjoying holding her baby. Brittany scooted over to towards Quinn, and Quinn stepped aside to let her out.

Biting her lip, Quinn looked down at Beth, then said softly, "I'm going to go talk to Puck."

Brittany leaned down slightly and bumped her forehead against Quinn's, then pulling back with a glance towards the passenger seat smiled a soft, sad smile that made Quinn want to sob; Brittany shouldn't look that sad, ever. She then went to go help Tiffany out of her car seat.

Quinn looked towards where Puck was sitting -the mohawked boy now just openly staring at Beth in Quinn's arms, and sighed. She didn't want to talk to Puck, she didn't want to lie about how she had gotten their daughter back; she just wanted to find a spot to curl up in, and go back to sleep holding her baby.

She noticed Sam was sitting on the roof of Puck's truck, shotgun in hand, surveying the area.

Aware of what the fact that Sam's parents weren't there meant, she, still holding Beth, walked to Puck who was looking at her, no, at Beth like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Did anyone reply to your text message?" He finally asked as he set the phone down on the table, then reached for Beth.

She shrugged, and handed Beth over to him. Silently, she went back to her SUV and grabbed her phone out of her backpack. She noticed that Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were inside Mr. Schue's crappy car, talking. Ms. Pillsbury looking like she was calming Mr. Schue down for once.

When she returned to Puck, she shrugged again and said, "I was busy, I'll check right now."

"Busy, Quinn? Keeping in phone contact with more than just me was an important part of the plan, and-"

"I'm not in the New Directions anymore Puck. If I had anywhere else to go I probably would have. Next time I'll tell the zombies to give me a five minute time out so I can check my phone."

Puck looked down, and softly stroked Beth's hair. "Was Shelby?..."

Turning from him and looking at the road, in a small voice she said, "She was alive when I finally got there, but bit. Told me to take Beth and go. Helped me get Beth's things in the car even. Then, she asked me to shoot her. So I did." Quinn couldn't look at Puck, or Beth right now. She knew Puck wouldn't understand -no one would. She didn't even, not really. She had done what she had to do for her baby, even if it was wrong.

"I haven't asked Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury what they brought. Me and Mom did a pretty good job with my truck and her car. Sam barely got his siblings out…" Puck hesitated, before continuing, "I guess your parents ended up the same as his, huh?"

Frowning, Quinn nodded, still not bringing herself to look at him.

"Well, the tentative plan right now is to leave in the morning; bunker down here and give everyone a chance to get here, maybe go loot before we head out. Already made a list of video games I want," Puck hummed a song for a moment to Beth, then continued, "And hey, we can get Beth the best baby crap there is. And Sarah'll will finally get all the expensive toys we couldn't afford to get her."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I think we'll have more pressing things to worry about then video games and toys Puck," she said dryly, "Like the flesh eating monsters trying to consume us?"

"Come on baby momma, the cabin is tricked out. A few supply runs here and there, we'll be fine to start repopulating the world. We could make Beth a big sister," Puck grinned at Quinn.

Quinn glared at him. "Don't call me that, and that's not happening Puck," she spat out his name, clinched her jaw, and said, "This isn't a game."

Puck grinned, "I noticed. But come on, this is way better. If we wait till tomorrow, that'll give enough time for everyone to get here. It'll probably draw a bunch of attention if we drive in the dark. It'll be only what, two three hours till it gets dark?"

"Something like that. What's with the weird horseshoe shape you've got the cars in?" Quinn rolled her eyes again, staring at Puck like she didn't quite believe he was being serious.

"If it was good enough for Pioneers trying to avoid Indians and bandits, it was good enough for us." He held Beth out to Quinn, "Here, hand her to ma, will you? "

Quinn took Beth softly in her arms, and stomped over to where Louise Puckerman and the kids were. "Mrs. Puckerman?" Quinn said softly, knowing that Louise didn't particular care for her.

"Please Quinn, just call me Louise, " Puck's mom sighed, then looked at Quinn critically, and added, "That's Beth isn't she?"

"Yes…the woman, who adopted her, didn't make it…so she's mine again."

"I was disappointed that Noah got you pregnant, Quinn. Being a mother isn't easy, and whatever is going on now with those things is going to make it a thousand times harder. I hope you can handle it."

"I can."

"I hope you're right Quinn."

Quinn knew, deep down in her heart, that she would be an amazing mother to Beth. She had already done so much for the toddler. She looked over to Sarah, Stevie, and Stacy who were coloring and said, "Hey. I'm glad you guys are ok."

The children all murmured hi to her, obviously scared to be too loud and looking like each one of them had been crying recently. Quinn didn't know what else to say to them, so she said, "It'll be ok. We'll all be ok."

The kids didn't reply, and just looked at her. Feeling inadequate, with a shrug she headed back over to her SUV, conscious that Louise was staring at her the whole way, a look Quinn couldn't decipher on the older woman's tired face.

"Quinn, " Santana said briskly once Quinn had reached it, "Let's go get cleaned up, I don't wanna drive to the cabin like this."

"Puck says we're probably staying the night here," Quinn said, shifting a now slightly more awake Beth from one hip to another.

"Here? Ugh," Santana rolled her eyes, "I needs me a bed, and some solid walls."

"I can put the back seat down, and rearrange our things, and make a nice nest for us back here," Brittany piped up from the back seat, where she was rooting through Tiffany's suitcase, "It might be a little cozy, but…"

Quinn shrugged, "That sounds alright Brittany."

Quinn watched Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury -a bag of what was likely cleaning supplies in her hand, exit their car. Ms. Pillsbury headed towards the cement building that was the bathrooms, clutching the bag of cleaning supplies like it was a life line, and Mr. Schue, a somber look on his face, veered towards them.

Quinn gritted her teeth as he came to a stop, staring at all three of them.

"I'm glad you girls are okay," He said, taking a deep breath, his eyes roving over Beth, "I just wanted to let you all know that even though Quinn, you and Santana aren't in the New Directions anymore, you're still welcome here, with us. That'll we will get through this, whatever this is, together. And-"

"Thanks Mr. Schue. Lord Tubbington wants to use your hair as a bed, so be careful tonight?" Brittany said, leaning out the door to look at him.

"Uh, I will, thanks Brittany," he said, he smiled at all of them, and when it was clear Quinn and Santana weren't going to say anything, he said, "Well, if you want to talk, Emma and I are here," before heading towards Puck. Quinn stared at his back, and frowned when he walked past Rachel, who Quinn hadn't noticed before, and just ignored her. Rachel was sitting on the curb next to the station wagon Quinn didn't recognize. Rachel was covered in blood and black gore, her hair was missing a chunk, and she looked so small and fragile in an oversized man's coat that Quinn had to fight the urge to go sit next to her, and comfort her. The guilt rolled in Quinn's stomach.

She clutched Beth to her tighter, staring at the brunette, before looking down at the ground, guilt flowing through her.

She took a few deep breaths, telling herself she had to do what she had to do for Beth. That it was Shelby's fault, Shelby made her, if Shelby had only agreed to come to the cabin with them, to safety, she'd be alive. It was all Shelby's fault. It was.

She kept breathing in and out, quickly, stared at Rachel again. She felt like the shadows were closing in on her, and her limbs felt shaky and weak.

"Quinn?" Brittany asked from next to her. Quinn hadn't even seen her get out of the SUV, "Here, I'll take Beth, okay? I got some things for her, and for you. Let's go to the bathrooms. I'll carry her, you help Santana, alright?"

Quinn pulled her eyes away from Rachel, and struggled to control her breathing. After a moment, she managed to say, "Okay," and handed her daughter over, not trusting herself right now. She didn't look at Rachel again, and instead took the pile of things Brittany had left on the hood of the SUV, and helped Santana out of the SUV. Santana leaned against Quinn, and together they hobbled to the bathroom, Brittany trailing behind them carrying Beth and holding Tiffany's hand.

Mack was in there, sitting against the wall texting furiously. She looked up, a sneer on her face that morphed into a grin when she saw it was Quinn.

"Q. I was just texting you," She stood up, leaving her phone next to her messenger bag, and nodded at Brittany and Santana.

"Mack. I was going to call you after we got cleaned up, I…" Quinn swallowed, "I didn't really have time to check my phone. "

Mack's eyes trailed over Quinn, and then Santana and Brittany, resting on Beth, then Tiffany's tear stained face. "I bet. You look almost as bad as Berry."

Quinn ignored the mention of Rachel, and finished helped Santana towards the sink, then went and stood next to Mack, and finally asked, "How'd you get here?"

"Hotwired a station wagon. I picked up Berry…shit was bad, she had to shoot her dad. The black one. Other one died earlier," Mack shrugged, and slung an arm around Quinn's waist, giving her a half hug. That's when Quinn knew Mack had been worried about her. Mack wasn't really one for 'Mushy Crap' except for extreme situations. Quinn smiled at Mack, smiled for what felt like the first time in days.

Quinn and Mack both turned and watched as Brittany set Beth on the ground, and the toddler stood unsteadily, clutching her blanket and looking around while Brittany helped her sister clean up and get changed.

Mack watched Beth seriously, then muttered, "You are one lucky bitch Quinn Fabray."

Quinn couldn't do anything but nod, any words she could possibly say dying in her throat. They both watched Beth for a moment, before Mack said, "I'm going to go talk Berry into getting cleaned up," and was out the restroom door before Quinn could say anything. Quinn took a deep breath, in and out, trying to control the guilt.

If Mack had to kill someone, like Quinn had to, to get her son back? Mack would have. Any mother would have. Mack just didn't have that option. It wasn't fair, but it was life. A few more deep breaths later, Quinn stepped lightly over to the sink, and pulled off her jacket, the gun holster, and the machete sheath, dropping them all on the floor. She pulled off her t-shirt, slick with zombie grim, and just tossed it in the trash. There was no saving it. Shivering, now just wearing her bra, she scrubbed her face and hands first, then the rest of her as best she could.

She tugged off her boots and socks (somehow her socks were completely clean), and left them next to her jacket before she pulled off her jeans. She didn't realize how heavy with blood and gore they were until she had them off, and it felt like a literal weight was lifted from her lower body. She scrubbed at the rest of her, and when she judged herself clean, held up the pants with one hand and said, "Keep or toss?"

Santana looked from where she had been pulling on a clean t-shirt, "Ew. Toss. We'll loot you some more. Designers."

"These _are_ designer," Quinn said dryly.

"Like thousand dollar designer jeans Q," Santana grinned, then looked warily at her swollen knee, then the pair of pajama bottoms she was going to have to attempt to put on, before adding, "Like stupidly expensive. Like, trophy wife with a small yappy dog expensive."

"Do you really think there are clothes that expensive _anywhere_ around _here_?" Quinn said, and rolled her eyes, still clad in just her underwear, went over and helped Santana pull the bottoms on without much fuss except for Santana wincing slightly.

She hadn't even been thinking about Beth, she realized with a wince when there was a thump, then the toddler started sobbing. Scared, Quinn turned towards her baby, and saw that she had wandered away from Brittany, and tripped over Mack's messenger bag strap. Quinn stood there, shocked for a moment, before rushing towards Beth. Quinn kneeled down, and apologized to the toddler, and tried her best to start soothing her. Beth just kept whining and crying, and before she knew it, Quinn was crying and apologizing both to Beth, tears streaming down her face as she kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" over and over again to Beth.

"Quinn, chill. She tripped, she's not even hurt," Quinn registered Santana saying, but it was Brittany's "I'm sorry Quinn, I took my eyes off her for a second," in a soft, calm voice that broke through to Quinn.

Quinn looked down, hiccuping slightly, and wiped her eyes before she stood up and turned to her concerned friend's.

She took a few deep breaths to get a hold of herself, and walked to the sink where she splashed cold water on her face, drying it off with the sweatshirt Santana handed her.

She handed Santana's sweatshirt back, and then Quinn roughly pulled off her bra, tossing it into the "clothes that could probably be saved if they're washed soon" pile Brittany had designated in a sing song voice to her sister, her bra was followed quickly by her underwear, then she tugged on the yoga pants, panties, t-shirt, and hoodie Brittany had grabbed her. She pulled on her socks, wiped down her boots, leather jacket, gun harness and stealth efficiently, mad at herself. Finally, she said, "No, Brittany. She's my daughter, I should have been watching her. It's not your fault, it's mine."

Brittany shook her head, but before she could say whatever she was going to say, Santana popped off with, "Quinn, it's okay. Toddlers fall and fake cry all the time for attention. All my c- _Tiffany_ used to do it all the time back when she was all wobbly headed and in diapers. Babies are like, near indestructible except for their weakness of a tiny spot on their heads."

"It's not okay Santana, " Quinn snapped, "Today it's a bag, tomorrow it's some zombie eating her because I wasn't paying attention, because I wasn't protecting her. Lesson learned."

"Quinn," Brittany said softly, as she helped her sister pull on a sweater, "Santana and I are here. We'll help protect Beth, just like you'll help protect Tiffany. We'll all keep each other safe. "

"What Britts said. We'll like, communicate, have teamwork, and stuff." Santana added, then nodded towards the door, "Them too, probably. Although I don't think I'd trust Finn to know which end of a gun is which."

"I.." The words stuck in Quinn's throat, "I appreciate that," she finally got out. And she did, really. But Santana had already made it clear that Brittany was her priority…and sure, she said she wouldn't do that again, but all it would take was one time. And Brittany…Quinn ducked down to scoop up Beth, who had realized no one way paying attention and stopped crying, and was staring intently at Lord Tubbington, who was sitting next to Tiffany while little blonde attempted to tie her shoe laces correctly. Quinn wrinkled her nose because the toddler obviously needed a diaper change. Thankfully, Brittany had included a diaper and changing stuff with Beth's new set of clean clothes (which were unneeded, as strictly speaking, the toddler had been the cleanest out of all of them,) and busied herself with changing Beth's diaper, and putting on the warmer clothes Brittany had selected for her. She allowed her eyes to dart over to the taller blonde girl. Brittany…Brittany believed in unicorns and the tooth fairy. Brittany was sweet, and while maybe she wasn't as smart as some people, she was smart in other ways…but she was sweet, and naive, and Quinn, loath as she was to admit it, Quinn didn't think Brittany would survive long without her and Santana and the others.

It was up to Quinn to keep protecting her baby, she wouldn't be able to rely on anyone else. Maybe Puck, she mentally amended…then her thoughts drifted back to when she was pregnant, and Puck kept insisting they could be a family, but he still went and sextet Santana behind her back. Maybe not Puck.

Mack opened the bathroom door, and gave Quinn a long look, then stomped past her, Brittany, Santana and the girls to her bag, which she picked up and slung on.

She could rely on Mack, she realized.

"One of you go tell Berry she needs to stop waiting for her boyfriend, and get cleaned up. Schuster's making food too. She told me in very flowery words that she appreciated my concern, but ultimately didn't give a crap what I thought she should do, but maybe coming from her friends," she said as she stooped to pick up her phone, staring at it with a frown for a moment, before rolling her eyes.

Santana smirked at Mack, and said, "Well, maybe one of them will say something to the hobbit. We've got our own problems."

Mack snorted, "You must be Santana."

Santana flicked her hair, which was loose again, and replied, "I am. I don't know which Skank you are, and I don't care. Quinn's with us, where she belongs. You can stay, but you'll have to -"

"Santana," Quinn said flatly, hoping to hold off whatever was about to happen, "There's zombies eating people. Can we please not do the high school drama crap. I'm glad Mack's here. I'm glad you're here. You don't need to fight over me. We've got bigger things to worry about."

"I'd win anyway," Mack grinned at Santana, "So are none of you really going to go talk to Berry? She needs…shit, her parents are dead, and I had to crack a window on the drive here, she smells so bad."

Santana shrugged, "I mean, I can go tell her she smells. "

"I thought you glee club dorks were all besties," Mack replied, and shot Quinn a hard look.

Quinn looked away from Mack, unable to look her in the eye. They had spilled their deep dark secrets to each other, and now Mack thought she should go be Rachel's hero or something. She _should_ go talk to Rachel, give her some comfort, get her to eat and clean up…but she couldn't face Rachel, not with what she had done, not with the guilt eating away at her right now. She had killed Rachel's mother in cold blood. Sure, it was to protect her daughter, but... Finn was her boyfriend anyway, that made him her knight in shining armor.

"Man Hands has no friends. We put up with her, but that's it. She was all of a sudden, suddenly best friends with Kurt, but my pet theory is Stockholm syndrome," Santana said, pulling her hair up into a messy knot.

"No way. Kurt's tricky, it was all part of his master plan to steal Rachel's voice," Brittany interjected as she bent down to help Tiffany with her shoelaces.

Quinn didn't need to look at Mack to know what look was on the other girl's face. Both eye brows raised, and a look that was part incredulous, and part annoyed. The same look Mack had given Quinn when Quinn had found herself on the fringe of the Skanks, before she'd been accepted fully by them.

"Right, I guess the propaganda about the New Directions was all wrong. Next you'll be telling me there weren't orgies or gross misuse of the money in the budget," Mack stomped once more to the door, and was outside without another word.

Mack was annoyed. Quinn was angry at herself for a whole lot of reasons, but mostly because Mack was right. One of them, Quinn, should have checked on Rachel. No one needed to be alone right now.

* * *

A small, lonely part of her had hoped that one of her fellow New Directions would come to her, and they would share in their misery of lost families together, and she would know for sure she wasn't alone even though she was surrounded by people. Her fellow glee clubbers tended to run rather hot and cold with her, so for the most part, she was waiting for Finn, and the comfort that her boyfriend would provide her. Comfort, she thought as she shivered on the cold cement, she sorely needed right now.

She tensed a little as a figure stomped up to her, but relaxed slightly when she realized it was Mack, once more.

To Rachel's surprise, Mack sat herself down right next to her, and held out a lump.

"Here. Clean clothes; the only pair of pajamas you brought, but I bet it's more like 'own'. I swiped some baby wipes from the guidance counselor, make it easier than just cleaning up with the sink. Water's cold as hell. "

"Once more Mack, " Rachel began carefully, "I appreciate your interest in my comfort as much as I am confused by it, but I have decided to remain here until Finn….Finn, and Kurt, arrive." She knew it was foolish, and likely a result of today's experiences, but she almost felt like Finn and Kurt's arrival at the rest stop, safely, was dependent on her sitting here. If she budged an inch, they would die.

"Once more Berry; that's dumb as hell," Mack leaned back on her hands, and stared at Rachel, "You know when I was ten, I slipped away from the Nanny. Found a puppy. This puppy wasn't even a cute puppy, she was dumb as hell too. But it was alone, and just so sad looking I couldn't help but want to take care of it. You remind me of that puppy. Alone. Tried to get some of your glee dorks to come talk some sense into you, but," Mack shrugged, and stared off towards the bathrooms where Quinn, Santana, Brittany, and what she assumed were Brittany's younger sister, and Beth, were exiting.

Rachel watched them, wondering where Shelby was if Quinn had Beth. To her surprise, she didn't feel that familiar twinge the usually felt when she thought about Shelby. But then again, her _dads_, who had loved her and cared for her and had never told her they couldn't be there for her, were _dead_. And that cast a shadow over everything. And next to that, the loss of any future on Broadway -something she had been _destined_ for, filled in the cracks. Finn simply couldn't die, she didn't have anything in her available to mourn him.

Rachel swallowed. She did not doubt that the Cheerios, past and present, would decline to offer some semblance of comfort. She had thought that she had finally gained some acceptance, but perhaps it was just a thin coating of acceptance; when times were hard, priorities would come out. And Rachel knew, without a doubt, that she was no one's priority. Except Finn's.

"What happened to the puppy? Presumably you are seventeen, almost eighteen, correct? It stands to reason if you found her when you were ten, the puppy would still be alive. And since you left your family willingly I cannot imagine why you would not bring your dog with you," Rachel finally asked, shivering even harder. It was getting later, and the air was getting chillier.

"When I got back to the Nanny and our driver, they took me home. My parents fired them both. I smuggled the puppy in my backpack, and…well, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep her. So I gave her the gardener. His kids even managed to teach her some things." Mack shrugged again, and rummaged through her bag, pulling out her phone.

"That was very mature of you," Rachel said, then added, "I am not a lost and alone puppy, The Mack. So I thank you for rooting around in my suitcase, but…"

Mack rummaged through her bag again, and pulled out a bottle of water, "Here Look, I know you're not a puppy. But-"

Rachel stared at the bottle of water, tears pricking at her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly, taking the water. Mack was the only one who had cared enough to speak to Rachel, had brought her a change of clothes, and now was handing her water when she was upset like her Father's used to.

"It's just water, Rachel." Rachel knew it was silly to be so emotional over water.

Rachel unwillingly smiled, "You called me Rachel."

Mack leaned forward, "Calling you Berry makes me crave fruit. What can I say." She traced a letter in the small clump of dirt at a broken corner of concrete. Rachel leaned forward, and saw that Mack was tracing a 'W' over and over again, "Look, stay covered in blood and zombie icky forever, what do I care. But if you were planning on sleeping in my illegally gotten vehicle tonight, since we're crashing here, you gotta be cleaner and less smelly."

Rachel froze. "I…I smell?"

Mack looked up at her, disbelieving, "Didn't you notice I rolled the window down during the drive, before we left the parking lot and got your dads? Did you not wonder why, when it's pretty damn chilly? You smell like blood and rot. From, you know, the blood and zombie gunk you're covered in. "

Rachel, once more, felt bile rise in her throat. That was her daddy's blood, and likely gore from the zombie that killed her father. She stood up, picking up the pile of clothing Mack had brought her as she did so, careful not to get anything on it, when she realized it was wrapped in paper towels, just for that very reason.

"I am touched at the care you have given me, The Mack. And thank you for…for everything you have done for me today. But if you will excuse me, I need to go clean up. Thank you, " Rachel darted away, stopping only to call over her shoulder, "I still am not a puppy!" to a grinning Mack.

Perhaps she wasn't as alone as she had feared, even without Finn at her side.

* * *

Brittany hopped out of the SUV, and said, "It's all done. I put our bags where we can get them easy, too."

Quinn looked up from where she was coloring with Beth and Tiffany, the girls sitting on the blanket Beth had been wrapped in.

"It's really comfy too. Lord Tubbington's already claimed the spot next to Tiffany, but the rest of us will fit just fine," Brittany squatted next to Quinn, and looked at where Santana was getting her knee looked at by Mrs. Puckerman, "Well, except Santana. She'd fit if we'll cuddle, but I kind of don't want to cuddle with her right now."

Quinn didn't know what to say to that, finally she managed, "Well, I think Santana could use some cuddling?"

"I know. And I feel bad for not wanting to cuddle with her," Brittany sighed, and tucked a piece of Tiffany's hair behind the little girls ear, "But I'm still kinda mad at her even though I said I wasn't."

They both silently watched Puck help Santana limp over to them, and once Santana was in a camp chair Puck set up for her, Santana scowled, "Louise says it's just a bone bruise. Tossed me some ibuprofen to take while we eat, said to take it easy, and she'll try to scrounge up a brace, which'll help."

"So no looting?" Puck grinned.

"Not tonight or anything. Which is lame, because in all the zombie movies now is totally the best time to get your loot on," Santana rolled her eyes, and leaned back in the chair, "But I don't cares, I'm totally getting my loot on tomorrow."

"So hey, Finn says Jacob Ben Israel is coming with them, I already told Rachel," Puck kicked at a rock.

All three girls groaned, and Santana said, "Jewfro's a creep."

"I know. He doesn't get to do the repopulation part of the plan, that's for sure. Can't pass those loser genes on. But Finn's mom felt sorry for him, 'cause he came home and his mom was dead. She had killed herself with a bunch of pills or something. "

"If Jacob was my son, I would have too," Santana muttered.

Puck shrugged, "That's the longer it's going to take them to get here. Finn and Mrs. Hummel are at their house packing supplies, while Mr. Hummel, Kurt and Blaine went to the Anderson's. They'll need time driving and packing time. I texted Kurt to remind him to pack the Anderson's dry goods and DVD collection and stuff. So yeah, I don't think they'll be here till it's way dark. I ordered Finn and Kurt to keep in contact, and stay alert."

"Hopefully Finn's smart enough to keep the doors locked and keep quiet. What about everyone else?"

"Artie, Mercedes and Lauren haven't replied to my texts, at all. Tina's with Mike, and that's all I know since they haven't replied back to me in like, two hours."

"I hope they're okay." Brittany said.

"I know Mercedes was going to go to the mall straight after school. Artie…he's pretty fast in his wheel chair, but all it takes is something tipping him over. Lauren…she can't outrun anything, and will be easily distracted by a candy bar," Santana finished with some venom in her voice.

"Lauren's a badass. She's probably too busy killing them to text me, " Puck said defensively.

"How did your mom and Mrs. Hummel not get stuck at the hospital, anyway?" Quinn said quickly, before Santana could reply with something bitchy about Lauren. Lauren was firmly "I don't really care" side of Quinn's brain. Puck had a weird blind spot for her, though, and they had only broken up a few days ago, so it was no wonder he'd sent her a text too. Quinn stood up, and stretched.

"They both had the day off. And by the time they got the call to come in, Finn's mom had seen a neighbor eat someone so she decided to stay home instead. And Mom was just lucky I came home when I did, because a whole bunch of our neighbors were trying to eat her and Sarah. " Puck's voice faltered a bit, and it was pretty obvious he was still a little freaked out how close he had come to losing his mom and sister.

Brittany started whispering something into Santana's ear, and silently Puck and Quinn went a few feet away, watching Beth and Tiffany scribbling.

"Oh, also Terri and her sister and nephew's will be here soon, too, I think." Puck nonchalantly added after a moment.

"Terri?! As in Mr. Schue's ex who wanted our baby, Terri?"

"Yeah, that Terri. She was our boss at Sheets N Things, she's cool and she's pregnant now for real, so I couldn't just let her be zombie food."

"Her nephews…they were a handful, but I'm sure your mom can handle them. Kendra's an idiotic drunken nightmare though. And- wait," here Quinn, shifted her weight from one foot to another, did a Wonder Woman pose, and gave Puck a glare that had once made a freshman wet herself, asked, "Pregnant? Puck, please tell me Mr. Schue's ex wife is not carrying our daughter's half sibling."

"You know I love the MILF's, baby momma, but I wouldn't touch Mr. Schue's leftovers with Finn's dick. And I don't know who the baby daddy is, Mr. Schue probably or maybe she had a sperm donor or a drunken one night stand or whatever. She's like seven months along, I think, so it's a good thing we have two nurses. "

The conversation trailed off, and both just watched Beth and Tiffany intently. Quinn mentally shrugged; Terri being with them didn't matter to her one way or another.

Sam's shout of "Hey, there's a car coming," made everyone freeze for a moment, and when he added, "Mike's driving," Quinn could practically hear the rush of air as everyone let out the breath they were holding and relaxed.

Santana stood up from the chair, hobbled to the back of the SUV where Brittany had apparently put her sleeping bag and pillow. Doing a good job of keeping the pain she was obviously in, without a word to any of them she went to Mack's station wagon, and tossed her bedding on the hood. Mack simply looked up from where she sitting on the curb, doing something on her Ipad, and just raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

Brittany watched Santana sadly, before sighing, and reached over and stroked Tiffany's hair, then gave Beth a new crayon.

Quinn watched Puck direct Mike to a parking spot, and Sam slide down off Puck's truck to greet them. Quinn stood dumbly, and watched as Puck spoke to Mike, and Sam helped a sobbing Tina and a woman she vaguely recognized as Mike's mom out of the tiny car. Louise, clutching a first aid kit, stood up and left her vigil with Sarah, Stevie, and Stacy. Quinn figured she may as well go see how they were doing, and after making sure Brittany was okay with Beth, jogged over there.

She set down gently next to Sarah, who looked up at her, then wrapped an arm around her, coloring with her other hand. Quinn pulled the younger girl close; while things were always dicey between her and Puck, and Louise always made it clear she didn't really like Quinn (or Puck for that matter), Quinn had gotten along pretty well with Sarah. It had actually been her idea to introduce her to Sam's siblings, so they had known each other before this, and she wondered if that'd make things a little easier on all three of them.

As Sarah softly asked if she was an Aunt now and could meet her niece, Quinn found her eyes wandering to Rachel. The petite girl was leaving the bathroom, and she looked far cleaner then she had been. Once more, guilt flushed through Quinn, as she stared at Rachel.

* * *

Quinn spooned the admittedly lumpy mashed potatoes towards Beth, who continued frowning, and moved her head away. Quinn sighed, and her stomach rumbling, reminding her she hadn't ate much today, and what she did eat she'd thrown up. Somehow, Puck had stopped and talked his mom into maxing out her credit card at a grocery store where people were more concerned with long term items then steak and butter, so their meal was an expensive steak, veggies, and mashed potatoes with butter and sour cream. It looked delicious, and Quinn hadn't had a bite of hers yet, since she was trying to get Beth to eat. Beth had accepted only a few spoonfuls of potatoes, a bit of veggies that Quinn had smashed with the spoon, and drank some milk (that had been in Mr. Schue's ice chest) from her sippy cup, and that was it.

Quinn was so hungry, and so tired, and starting to get frustrated. She glared over at Puck, who had finished his mountain of food and was regulating how he saved his mom and sister to Mike and Tina. Around her, everyone seemed to relax and…not quite enjoy themselves, but close, as they ate. Brittany was sitting next to her, and Tiffany was on her other side. Santana was sulking on Puck's free side. Mack had woofed down her food, and muttered to Quinn she was going to call Shelia until the other girl answered, then slunk off to do that.

Finally, Quinn gave up. If Beth didn't want to eat, Quinn wasn't going to force her. She started in on her food, savoring every bite. She had never felt so hungry before. It felt like she hadn't eaten anything solid in ages. It felt like she was done eating in merely seconds, and she burped quietly, stuffed. She finished her water in a gulp. Feeling a little more human, she once more attempted to get Beth to eat more.

The toddler flatly refused to cooperate.

Quinn's eyes once more darted to Puck, who was now just chatting with a quiet Mike. Frowning, Quinn stood up, picked up Beth with one hand, and Beth's plate with the other. She stalked towards Puck, set Beth down in his lap, and her plate next to him.

"Your turn," She said flatly, and stalked away before he could reply.

She ended up next to Puck's Truck, not wanting to go far, or face anyone just yet. Sam was still holding vigil on the roof of the truck, and noticing him, and how pale he looked, Quinn said, "Have you eaten Sam?"

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, and was looking off in the distance as he answered, "Uh, no. I was going to later, I just wanted to..." he finished with a sigh.

"Go eat. " Quinn

"I will later, I just-,"

"Go. Eat." Quinn stated flatly, interrupting him, in a tone of voice that she had, not that long ago, been able to use to make freshmen Cheerios cry.

"Um, yeah I guess I could eat. I haven't really ate anything anyway. I should check on Stevie and Stacy too." With a look at Quinn she didn't feel like deciphering, Sam climbed off the roof, hesitating, before leaving his shotgun up there. When he was down, he looked like he wanted to say something more to Quinn, but thought better of it, and headed to get some food instead.

She put his shotgun down in the truck bed, then climbed onto the roof, taking Sam's spot. Deciding that really, a watch wasn't needed for the moment since it'd take a while for those things to shamble out here, she decided it was ok to lay down on the roof.

She looked up at the sky. It was still too light out to see any stars, but the rapidly setting sun would make quick work of that soon.

She allowed herself a few minutes of relaxation, not thinking about anyone or thing.

She pointedly didn't allow her gaze to stay to Rachel, sitting by herself waiting for Finn. She felt so guilty, a part of her wanted to go to Rachel, to take care of Rachel. She wouldn't though.

That was Finn's job.

Quinn scowled.

Sam, apparently having ate and checked on his siblings rather quickly, judging by the color he had back from eating, stopped in his tracks near the truck. Thinking the scowl was for him, he said, "Uh, maybe I should spend some time with Stevie and Stacy. It'll maybe help them sleep better later. Help all three of us, probably."

Before Quinn could reply he turned around and walked rather quickly back to where his siblings were finishing their dinners at a table on the grass.

It was an odd feeling, having people scared of you. Quinn leaned back on her elbows, using her backpack as a pillow. She relaxed a little, enjoying the sounds of crickets that were louder than the group of quiet people around her.

Naturally, that was the point that lights brightened up the area. Of course people show up when she's finally relaxing.

Shrugging, she decided to go see who it was.

She climbed down, and by the time she had her backpack back on and was walking over to the two SUVs it was clear it was the Hummel-Hudson's, and the Andersons, Puck had a few words with the group, and went back to whatever he had been doing.

"What do you mean we're sleeping here tonight? Is he serious Quinn? " Kurt said as she stood in the spot Puck had vacated, "My clothes will get wrinkled. Doesn't he know how much they're worth?"

"Nothing, since you know, zombies?" Quinn said dryly.

"I've seen how you've been dressing lately, I know _you_ wouldn't understand. Where's Rachel and her dads? Rachel hasn't replied to my texts in ages. Mercedes either. Hiram will agree with me, the man has amazing taste," he sniped.

"Dead. Rachel's dads that is. Rachel's around. I haven't heard from Mercedes either," She pointed out, glaring at him again.

"Oh." Kurt deflated. In a quiet voice, he said "No, it's ok. I'm sure it'll be okay…"

"Are you sleeping in this SUV, or Blaine's? I'll help you carry your stuff," Quinn offered.

"No, Mr. Anderson…he wouldn't like us sleeping next to each other," Kurt said, rolling his eyes a little, anger evident.

Quinn filed that bit of information away for later. She reached out for the sleeping bag Kurt offered her. Leaving him to grab his pillow and one of his many bags, they moved to the SUV Finn had vacated.

She noticed that a lot of the adults, including Louise, were gathered in a group, talking quietly among themselves, and wondered what they were talking about.

Course, it wouldn't be a shock if it was about one of them stepping up and taking over leadership. Who in their right minds would leave a bunch of teenagers in charge? Even if one of the teens was Quinn Fabray, former Head Cheerio. A spot she had fought for and earned in her freshman year. Not even _Frannie_ had done so well her freshman year. And that's not even mentioning Sue's end of the world training, even if Quinn had barely paid attention.

Once Kurt's things were in a pile in the back, Kurt mumbled a thanks to Quinn, then made a beeline for where Rachel was looking doe eyed towards Finn, who was chatting animatedly with Puck. For a moment, Quinn felt a surge of panic because she didn't see Beth anywhere, until she realized Louise was holding her.

Quinn felt a surge of anger at Finn and Puck over pass even the anger she felt at herself; squishing it down as best she could, she turned back to Puck's truck. Sam was back up there, so with a sigh she went back to her SUV, even as a noticeably pregnant Teri, her sister, and the triplets were climbing out of a just parked SUV. Mr. Schue was standing and watching as Teri put her hands on her stomach and glared at him.

Whatever, it wasn't Quinn's problem to handle.

The nest Brittany had made looked comfortable and inviting. Lord Tubbington was curled up in the blankets, and Quinn's eyelids felt so heavy so couldn't help but climb up, and climb under the blankets, curling up around the cat who started purring. She'd just cat nap for not even a half hour, she needed some rest.

As she drifted off to sleep, she felt someone reach in and gently pull the blanket up around her and the cat.

* * *

"Finn," Rachel couldn't even attempt to disguise the relief in her voice as Finn stepped out of his mother's utterly stuffed car. She vaguely recognized Kurt's SUV and Burt's SUV, but did not have a moment to wonder why the Anderson's were not driving one of their own vehicles before Finn enveloped her in a hug.

"Rachel…" He muttered into her hair.

For the first time since all this happened, she felt safe as the tension left her body, just being held in Finn's arms was amazing.

Then he pulled away.

"I've gotta go talk to Puck, and Mr. Schue, okay? I'm so glad you're alright…." Finn said.

Then just like that, he was gone, dashing over to Puck and they were giving each other high fives. Kurt quickly came to stand by her as she stared at her boyfriend and Puck in shock. Kurt quickly gave his condolences for her fathers, and then started droning on and on about his clothing.

She gave them both the benefit of the doubt that the reality of the situation had yet to hit them.

But still, at the moment she longed to curl up in a ball and sob herself to sleep, instead of listening to Kurt prattle on and on.

She knew that one could consider her to be needy. But she felt her expectations when Finn, his family, and the Anderson's arrived (that Finn would be by her side, let her know he was there for her, and just…held her while she cried,) were not asking much. And sure, he had held her, but…

"Rachel?"

She realized she had completely tuned out Kurt, and shamefaced, she looked at him, "I am afraid I did not catch that, could you please say it again?"

Kurt looked at her worriedly, "I said I'm sorry about Shelby. I know you guys had your issues, but she's dead, and now Beth's here..."

At hearing confirmation at what she had been expecting, Rachel felt a tiny tinge of hurt, but then nothing.

She licked her lips, and said, "Thank you for your condolences. I am glad you and your family made it here safely." There was a pregnant pause, and Rachel couldn't take this anymore. She had been waiting for Finn, she needed him, and he wasn't here for her. Maybe she was needy, or maybe she was just not dealing well with what had happened today. Mr. Schue had ignored her. Quinn kept giving her _looks_ when she thought Rachel didn't know. Puck kept talking about 'repopulating the world'. Jacob Ben Israel was lurking nearby, clearly intent on speaking to her once Kurt left her. And she felt extremely upset with herself for being envious of Finn, of Kurt, of even Mike. Even Quinn and Puck had been reunited with their daughter. They had their families, they were not _orphaned._

"Please tell Finn I'm not feeling well and am going to lie down."

Then Rachel fled to Mack's station wagon.

The Mack simply looked at Rachel before resuming whatever she was doing on her ipad. She did not even say anything when Rachel flung herself into the backseat, curled up and started crying, for which Rachel was grateful.


	5. Ironman

Rachel was crying, way too loudly in Santana's opinion. _Everyone_ could probably hear Rachel.

Two things were stopping her from telling Rachel to shut up; one, it wasn't like Rachel was the only one crying, even if she was the only one in the station wagon. And two, Santana was pretty sure the Mack would kick her out, or (_try to_) beat her up or something. And Santana didn't feel like fighting; not until her knee was better. And she certainly didn't want to go sleep in the bathroom. Especially one that only had a high, tiny window that you couldn't escape out of.

You'd think Rachel would be a little more considerate, since some people had to go loot a super Wal-Mart tomorrow and needed their sleep, because it was probably going to be that Black Friday where a Wal-Mart worker died, a pregnant woman lost her baby, and like thirty people were injured…but times a hundred. It wasn't like Berry was going to risk herself to make sure Puck didn't just get video games. Santana sure as hell wasn't going to miss it, knee or not.

The hobbit wasn't the only person to have lost family. Santana had, for one. And Santana certainly wasn't blubbering and keeping anyone awake.

If her lack of sleep got her bit, she was going to come back to the rest stop long enough to punch Rachel in the face. Maybe give Brittany a careful kiss on the cheek. Definitely give Tubby a good belly rub for as long as he'd tolerate, and then go off into the woods to shoot herself. Like hell she was going to be one of those things. She was close enough to Mack that she could tell the other girl wasn't sleeping either. She frowned, and wiggled, trying to get comfortable.

The Mack wasn't who she had expected to be sleeping next to tonight. She'd wanted, _needed,_ Brittany.

But Brittany was pissed at her.

She knew Brittany was crying silently in Quinn's SUV right now, curled up against her sister and cat. Santana wanted to comfort her, to be there for her, but Brittany preferred to cry herself out. Privately. Any attempts at comfort would be met with silent hostility. And she was already being plenty hostile to Santana right now; the worse kind of hostile. The quiet kick you out of bed kind.

Eventually Brittany would stop being so upset, they'd talk, and make up.

So all Santana could do was wait, and try to get some sleep.

But sleep wouldn't come.

She mentally cringed, remembering her sole focus on making sure that Brittany was safe, she didn't even think about Brittany's sister. And she had just left Tiffany in her SUV, door open, for anything to come in and eat her.

They had driven to Brittany's house after school. The whole day at school had been…odd, in hindsight. And they had saw some freaky stuff as they drove.

They still haven't expected, when they got to Brittany's house, that the front door would have been busted. Or the blood dotted around the house. Some of the stains had been really huge.

After they went inside, the house appeared empty. Santana was pretty sure, that whatever had happened to Brittany's parents, they had been packing to leave. Without Brittany, if the half written note Santana had found, read, and quickly crumpled up in a ball and thrown behind Brittany's fridge before Brittany saw it, was any indication.

Brittany's parents loved her, but they didn't understand her. She wasn't the straight A genius they wanted (Santana made sure Brittany's grades were respectable B's). Her mom had even told Brittany, once, while Santana was there for dinner that Brittany had a brain the size of a toddler's fist. Which was, besides being _ridiculous,_ just plain mean, since that was the type of stuff Brittany would believe. It was pretty obvious Brittany was unique in a non-parent approved way, so Santana hadn't been surprised when they'd given up on her and had another child. Brittany insisted Tiffany was her clone, but Santana was pretty sure they were just siblings who looked a lot alike.

It was still a bit of a gut punch that the adult Pierce's decided Brittany would be safe with Santana, and would just leave and evacuate without her. Which is why Brittany was never, ever going to find out.

While Brittany had packed her things, Santana got a text from her Abuela. Her Abuela's message had specifically told her not to bring anyone, but like hell she was leaving Brittany. So she hadn't told her grandmother about Brittany at all, just replied that she'd get the stuff her Abuela wanted her to bring.

When she was finished texting her grandmother, she had headed upstairs to help Brittany. Then she had heard meowing. Brittany must have heard it too, because they had met up in the hallway, and together headed to the master bedroom.

Tiffany and Lord Tubbington had been hidden in the master bedroom's large walk in closet, with Tiffany's things. Brittany had declared him a "Good Kitty" (which the cat had, Santana would swear on a stack of bibles, looked pleased about), and explained to Santana that it was Lord Tubbington's protective instincts had made him lead Tiffany to hide in the closet.

Santana figured the adult Pierce's had put them in there for safety or whatever.

It had taken them a while to drive to her Abuela's house, much longer than normal.

And then they had gotten there and they were dead and she had grabbed Brittany and ran and she had left Tiffany and then everyone else was dead. Dead. Dead.

Santana clinched her eyes shut, and took a few deep breaths. She wasn't going to think about it. She wasn't. It was over and done and there was nothing she could do. Crying wouldn't bring them back. Her Abuela would sneer at her, and call her weak for crying. She wasn't going to cry.

Santana's parents and family were dead. She wasn't going to cry. If it was Brittany…Santana didn't want to think about it, even. She couldn't see going on to take care of Tiffany and Lord Tubbington by herself, without Brittany. Sure, there was Quinn, and whoever else, but without Brittany? She hurt, deep inside, and couldn't breathe just thinking about it.

She opened her eyes, and stared at the ceiling, barely visible in the dark. That was Santana's new reality. Parents, Grandmother, relatives, non-Glee friends, Cheerios? Alright. She could deal with that, even if it hurt. Brittany, Tiffany, Lord Tubbington (she didn't want Brittany hurting even worse, because her sister and cat were dead? Hell to the no. Add Quinn and Beth to that list too, because it something happened to her, Quinn would make sure Brittany was taken care of. So Santana would do the same for Quinn. Between Santana and Brittany, they could figure out how to take care of Beth. And keep her alive.) Her and Brittany.

Santana was desperately, heart breakingly, in love with Brittany.

In love with Brittany.

It felt weird for Santana to think that, to admit it, when before she had dated boys, and flat out refused to tell anyone about her and Brittany…telling herself it was just sex when she was horny and bored.

But Santana knew after they graduated high school together, (and they would have graduated together, years of Santana doing two sets of homework, in two distinct handwritings and styles, and having major cram sessions before important tests using a complex system that really only made sense to the two of them to get Brittany to understand and remember stuff for the tests,) she'd let Brittany decide where they were going (because, hell or high water, they were going to get out of Ohio,) then she'd arrange to go to school or whatever, and take care of Brittany. For the rest of their lives. And possibly with kids someday, far away but totally lots of sex and a shared bedroom.

The inhuman noise, a keel of pain, that Brittany had made, when they had hidden in the bathroom and realized Tiffany was still in Santana's SUV. Santana never, ever, wanted to hear Brittany make that noise again. And definitely not because Santana had screwed up.

Thank God Quinn had come along when she did…Brittany would have never forgiven her if anything had happened to Tiffany.

If she did something like that again, she knew Brittany would never forgive her. That she may as well toss herself in a group of zombies, for all the blonde girl would care.

Brittany could hold grudges.

She understood why Brittany was upset with her still, she did. But it had still hurt when Brittany had whispered that she was banished from sleeping in Quinn's SUV tonight. Her family was dead, she needed to be near Brittany right now, even if they weren't going to cuddle or anything.

So yeah, maybe she was mad at Brittany for being upset with her still. It was dumb, emotions were _dumb._ But it also broke her heart to know that there was nothing Santana to do to make her feel better, Brittany's parents were dead, the blonde girl was devastated by it. Even if she had kept a smile plastered on her face during the day, for her sister's sake. Santana re-vowed to herself that Brittany was never, ever, going to find out that her parents had been planning on leaving without her. _Ever._

Quinn would take care of Brittany and Tiff, just like Santana would try her best to take care of Quinn's lizard baby. Who she should probably start calling Beth, but every time she did call her lizard baby Quinn almost smiled, even if it annoyed her. She was worried about Quinn. Had been worried about her since school had ended last year. But now she was like, extra worried. So was Brittany. Santana glared at the ceiling, and shifted, trying to get the fuzzy sleeping bag away from her nose. She didn't want to move too much, because it was really cramped in here and she didn't want to bother Mack. She had no doubts Mack would kick her out if The Mack wanted to, and Santana really really didn't want to have to go sleep in the bathroom.

Even one with thick concrete walls, and a steel door.

Sighing, Santana couldn't take it anymore, and sat up slightly. Carefully she wiggled out of the blankets, doing her best not to disturb her bed fellows, or hurt her knee. She had told Quinn she injured it because Brittany's zombie parents had distracted her. Actually she had just got scared of something dumb, like a coat but dumber, and tripped, landing on it bad. She wiggled towards the front door, and stepped lightly to the hatch, popping it open and hopping out with a wince, giving a sobbing Rachel a glare as she quietly closed it.

Sam was on top of the roof of Puck's truck, keeping watch still. Which was a good idea.

She hopped into the back of Puck's truck, and climbed next to Sam, ignoring the pain from her knee.

They sat silently together for a few minutes, before Sam broke the silence.

"It's weird. I got the "Zombie Survival Guide" for my birthday and I've reread it so many times it's falling apart. I've read and reread "World War Z" like a thousand times, I'm pretty sure the librarians thought I was a weirdo for checking it out so many times. I've been hoping that something like this would happen since I was eight. I imagined I'd be the big hero, killing zombies, protecting my family, looting stores, having everything I've ever wanted but couldn't afford and just…I never thought it'd be like this."

"Like what?"

"I just kinda assumed I'd be in charge? Everyone would be so grateful for my saving them they'd make me leader. Mostly that meant like, all the chicks. But I guess it's not a surprise Mr. Hummel, Mr. Anderson and Mr. Schue are taking charge. It's just…dumb. I'm dumb."

"You're not dumb. Who hasn't fantasized about this sort of thing? Except in mine, Quinn's usually in charge. She's been captain of the cheerleaders for most of her high school career, and Coach Sue took that, and the Cheerios seriously. Sue even had do an "End of the World" survival boot camp one summer for us, and Quinn had like, extra training. Wouldn't surprise me at all if Sue wasn't bunkered down with some Cheerios, current and former, somewhere, planning how to take back Lima or whatever. But this is reality, Quinn's…she's got her daughter back, her parents are dead, and she had to save me and Britt. She's exhausted. Fantasies are just that, fantasy. Reality is more of a bitch," Santana replied, shrugging, leaning back and looking at the stars.

"And…I didn't realize it be so scary. There's no way I'd can sleep. I've tried and it just wasn't happening. I've watched so many horror movies, but nothing prepares you for watching your parent-" Sam interrupted his thought, "And I'm so worried something going to happen to me. Who's going to take care of Stevie and Stacy? Or worse, what if something happens to one of them? I just wonder if maybe it wouldn't have been better if we had died with our parents, maybe….maybe it's not worth living in this world."

"Being alive is always, always better than being dead. Nothing is going to happen to you, Stevie or Stacy. And if something does happen to you, _but it won't_, Quinn, Brittany and I will take care of them. I promise," Santana leaned against the blonde boy, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Thanks Santana, that means a lot. If anything happens to you and Quinn, I'll take care of Beth, Brittany and her sister, okay?"

"Nothing's going to, because we're bad asses trained by Sue Sylvester herself, but thanks Sam. I'd feel better if you were here to protect Brittany, when we go out looting tomorrow?" Santana offered, "Make a list of like, Stacy and Stevie's sizes and color preferences and toys needs and crap, and I'll make sure to pick up stuff for them. You too."

Sam smiled at Santana, "Thanks Santana. " He paused for a moment as if thinking something over, then leaned over to kiss Santana.

Santana recoiled back.

"Uh, I'm sure those huge trouty lips are great at kissing Sam," Santana said once she got over the seconds long shock, "But I'm a lesbian. Me and Brittany are dating." She swallowed heavily. It felt weird to say that out loud. Especially since Brittany was upset with her, and she was upset with Brittany. "She's mad at me right now, and I'm kinda mad at her too, but…"

Sam smiled at her, "Oh. Sorry Santana I didn't know," Giving her a grin he added, "My lips are amazing at kissing. But stop calling me trouty mouth."

She gave him a grin of her own, happy that on the surface he had taken it well. Of course, this was Sam, he was a pretty easy going guy. "No one knew, but I'm ready for people to know. Slow at my own pace, though, so please don't tell anyone. Also never. Just like I will never admit that Batman could beat Deadpool in a fight. Because to do so is _wrong_."

"Of course I won't Santana, that's messed up. Also, you are wrong. Batman could totally beat Deadpool in a fight, he-"

They kept talking about Batman verses Deadpool, and eventually the entire Justice League verses Deadpool for nearly an hour, until Burt and Carol came to relive Sam and Mike from their turn on guard duty. Mike had been walking around the parking lot, patrolling, and after Sam's attempts to get him to join their conversation when he was near them failed the first time, they had let Mike be.

After escorting Mike to his mom's car where the pair of them were going to sleep, (Santana wondered why Tina hadn't joined them), Sam helped Santana walk to the Mack's station wagon. Santana just barely managed to stop herself from crawling into Quinn's SUV and curling up next to Brittany.

He helped her stand at the side of station wagon. Sam stood at the back of the station wagon, but before he opened it for her, he stopped and turned to Santana, "Thanks Santana…just thanks. I might be able to get some sleep tonight."

"Me too. Although not if Berry's still wailing like a banshee," Santana said with a shrug.

"Santana," Sam said, looking disappointed, "Maybe cut the mean girl stuff, and give Rachel a break?"

"I've always been mean to her. I'm just trying to keep things normal," Santana said, giving Sam a smirk. He just looked at her, until Santana added, "but she doesn't need to be a drama queen. Ok? We all lost people. Hell, I lost my whole family, and I almost lost Brittany. Do you see me keeping people awake blubbering?"

Sam cocked his head to the side, and looked at Santana seriously, "If you want to cry, everyone will understand Santana. We're all sad and hurting."

Santana scowled, "I'm not a giant baby Sam. They're dead, and crying isn't going to bring them back."

"No Santana, it won't bring them back…but maybe you'll feel a tiny bit better?"

Santana just looked down for a few moments, then at Sam, "Just open it Sam, I need some sleep."

Sam sighed, and said, "Just cut her some slack Santana. Hell, cut everyone some," and lifted up the back hatch. He helped her crawl back in.

It was quiet inside.

Santana took off her boots, and crawled to her sleeping bag as Sam softly closed the door.

Eventually she fell asleep.

!

Santana woke up with a heavy weight on her chest. She opened her eyes, and found the source of the weight was a very large cat. She looked at the furry face staring intently at her.

This was Lord Tubbington's usual way of waking her up anytime she spent the night at Brittany's house.

It was almost comforting in how normal it was.

"Hi Tubby," she said, then nudged him off. He jumped down next to her, tail twitching, staring at her. She wondered how he had gotten into the Mack's station wagon, but saw the back hatch was open. Shrugging, she wiggled out of her sleeping bag, and scooted out the door.

Her knee didn't feel much better. The weather was cloudy and chilly, and Santana shivered as she roughly pulled her boots on, not even bothering to zip them up. She looked around at the people she was apparently going to survive the apocalypse with, and stopped short when she realized she didn't see Brittany or Quinn anywhere.

For a second, she had a deep, gut wrenching feeling that they had died in the night, and no one had bothered to tell her. Mack saw her, and Santana must have looked scared or something, because she nodded towards the bathrooms. Santana smirked at her, and tried to be nonchalant as she limped her way to the bathroom. She'd be damned if anyone helped her right now.

Brittany was helping Tiffany brush her teeth, and Quinn was tiredly changing Beth's diaper. Brittany looked at her quickly, a small smile on her face, and Quinn said, "Hey Santana."

Santana nodded at them both, and went into a stall to pee. When she finished, she went to a sink and washed her hands. Brittany handed her toothbrush, and pointed to a pile of clothes, and things she'd need. Then the blonde girl took Tiffany's hand, and they left.

Santana watched them leave, anger and sadness flowing through her. A part of her wanted to throw herself on the ground, and beg for Brittany to forgive her already, that Santana had learned her lesson, and it wouldn't happen again.

Brittany was the only one who could make her beg.

Another part, a part that was growing larger, wanted to scream that everyone she'd loved was dead except Brittany, that she needed Brittany right now…but Brittany wasn't here for her, not really. Leaving her her toothbrush and clothes and stuff was all well and good, but Santana needed…she needed Brittany. She needed to be held, to hold.

She started brushing her teeth extra hard, ignoring Quinn's pitying look. She spat, and turned and glared at Quinn, "Don't. Don't give me that look."

Quinn sighed, and tiredly tied one of Beth's stupidly tiny sneakers, while the toddler tried to wiggle away.

"Santana…."

Santana spat out the water she'd been rinsing her mouth with, "I don't want to hear it Quinn. I need her, okay? She's upset with me, I get that. I do. I panicked and if you hadn't come along…but you _did_. My entire family is _dead_, and I _need_ her and…" Santana sighed, and started peeling off her pajamas, glowering at the sink, wishing it would turn into a shower.

"Just…give her some time, okay?" Quinn said, staring at Santana.

Santana practically growled out, "Don't worry about me Q, worry about your lizard baby." Quinn looked like she was going to say more, but Beth started fussing, and Quinn had to tend to her.

Once Santana finished getting dressed, piling her cast off clothing with her toothbrush and hair brush and things, and Quinn had stuffed Beth's things into her diaper bag, Santana leaned against Quinn's side, and they left the bathroom together. Santana hated that she was injured, that she needed people's help. Her journey from the station wagon to the bathroom was already taking a toll on her. She hated being weak.

"I'm ready to get my loot on," she declared, once her and Quinn were sitting down at the picnic tables. Knee or not, she was going out looting. She'd get Brittany and Tiffany something kickass each, make sure the stuff was got for Sam and his Siblings, and take out her frustrations on some zombies. And by dinner time, they'd be at the cabin and she could have a nice, long soak in a hot bath for her knee. It was a win win situation.

Sarah came up, and gave Quinn and Santana bowls of hot oatmeal, along with an extra bowl and spork for Beth, and more ibuprofen for Santana.

"Thanks Lil' Puck," Santana managed to get out without a hint of her annoyance at the world showing through.

Sarah managed a tentative smile, and a quiet "You're welcome", and scurried off back to where her mother was sitting. Sarah hadn't protested like she usually did when Santana called her that, and Santana frowned wondering just what the younger girl had seen yesterday.

"Me too Santana." Quinn shrugged, and started spooning some oatmeal into the bowl for Beth.

Burt, who was sitting at a table near them, shook his head and said, "It's just too dangerous. We'll worry about the supplies we don't have once we get to the cabin."

"Dangerous? But -" Quinn started to say, but was interrupted by Will.

"Yes. And it'll take more time then we can afford. We need to get to a safer place."

Quinn scowled, but before she could say anything, Finn said, "You can do whatever you want Quinn, you don't have to stay with us if you don't like how Burt's doing things," with a shrug. Rachel was sitting next to him eating a gross looking vegan protein bar that Santana could occasionally get whiffs of, making her wrinkle her nose. Santana had assumed that smell was Finn.

Quinn glared at him, and Santana said, "Gee Finn, it's probably a good idea we aren't going looting. The zombies might be confused and think you're one of them. Since, you know, you're just as brainless."

"Shut up Santana. Everyone knows that you are so mean because you-" Finn said, from the pile of food on his plate, before Burt interrupted him with a "That's enough. Everyone", in a tone that left no room for arguments.

"We need to go to a store, there are people who didn't get a chance to get much before they left their houses, " Quinn said stonily. And Santana nodded her agreement, frowning at Burt. Sam had managed to grab a family portrait, taken in happier, richer times for the Evan's family, and Stacy had held onto her favorite stuff animal, a lion, but besides that all they had was what they were wearing. Even now Sam had put his Leatherman jacket over Stacy, and was shivering in his t-shirt in the cool morning air, his brother stubbornly shivering next to their sister, who kept offering the jacket to him but he kept refusing. How on earth could Mr. Schue just write that off, Santana had no idea. She really doubted he would have done so if it had been _Finn_.

"Quinn, we said no. Please drop it," Will scowled.

"Man, none of you are her daddy. Q, you wanna go get stuff I'll go with you," The Mack said flippantly.

Santana thought she might like that girl. Eventually.

"No one has to go with us, but it'd be safer. We aren't going to wait for anyone. We're leaving in a few hours," Mr. Anderson said. He was sitting with his wife, who looked twenty years younger than him, making her closer to Blaine's age then his dad's. Santana wondered if the infant Mrs. Anderson wore in a sling was an on purpose baby, or an _"I'm going to get a decent payout if you decide to trade me in for a younger trophy wife"_ baby.

Santana could respect that.

"I just think-" Quinn started, stubbornly.

Will interrupted her with a sigh, "Quinn, I understand how you are feeling right now. But you aren't in charge, the adults are. Anyone who doesn't have everything they could want right now will just have to make due.

"Fine. If that's what you all have decided, " Quinn said, blank faced, "Then that's it. " She turned back towards the table, her breakfast, and her lizard baby clearly indicating the conversation was over.

"We don't have to stay with them," Santana pointed out to Quinn in a quiet whisper.

Quinn just shrugged.

Santana stifled a sigh, and the urge to give Quinn a shake. She hadn't really been serious about leaving, but damn, Quinn could give her a better reaction.

Santana spooned the oatmeal robotically into her mouth, watching everyone but Brittany as she did so. When she finished, she stood up, and leaving Quinn to try to get Beth to eat, Santana hobbled around the table, tossing her bowl and spork in a trash can, then stopped and leaned next to Brittany.

"Britts."

Brittany looked at her and said, "I'm still….Santana please just..."

Santana took a deep breath, "Can you get some things from Tiffany's suitcase that'll fit Stacy?"

Brittany looked up at her, and nodded. Santana mumbled "Thanks," and stood there, hoping Brittany would say something, anything. Finally, unable to take it, Santana whispered, "Brittany…please."

Brittany turned away from her.

Swallowing down her urge to both scream and beg, Santana limped away from Brittany towards Kendra and her sons, gritting her teeth from the pain. She'd get some clothes for Stevie from them, then she'd go to Mike and get stuff for Sam. At least she could get Sam and his siblings some clothes. Knee or not, she needed to do something instead of sitting around moping. If Brittany wasn't going to forgive her, fine.

She'd deal.

Thirty minutes later, Santana was handing two bulging grocery tote bags (curtsy of Ms. Pillsbury) filled with clothes for all three Evan's to Sam, and some toys and books for the two younger ones.

They were leaning against the battered death trap Sam had escaped the Hotel with his brother and sister in. Somehow it was an even crappier car then Mr. Schue's. Sam had, when he saw her hobbling towards him, started for her, but she'd glared at him and he sighed, but waited for her to make her way to him.

"Thanks Santana," he took them.

"It's not like, a ton of stuff, but," Santana shrugged, and tried to casually adjust her position against the car so Sam wouldn't know just how much walking to it had hurt her. Brittany would say she was being stubborn, but Brittany wasn't actually talking to her, not really and Santana was able to easily ignore the inner Brittany voice.

"It's still more than anyone else thought to give us, well except Mike, him and Tina were going to loan us some things before you talked to him, but yeah. Thanks again Santana."

"Whatever Trouty mouth. I was just thinking of the rest of us, felt bad for whoever got stuck in a car with you. You aren't going to try to drive this death trap are you? There's totally room in Quinn's SUV."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want anyone to think you were being nice or anything. And no, we're going to ride with Mike, Tina's going to sit in the middle up front to make room, or we'll just all squeeze in the back. But thanks," He set the bags on the hood, and slide his hand along the peeling paint job, "Mr. Cane, that's whose car this is? He'd always talk about once he finally saved up enough money, he'd get himself a classic muscle car. Him and dad would talk for hours about it. Even promised to let me have this one, and I always felt bad because I didn't think he'd finish saving any time soon, and by the time he did, we'd be far away from that hotel."

"How'd you with this crappy vehicle anyway?"

"How'd you end up getting here with Quinn? Last Puck heard from you, you called us all idiots and said you and Brittany were going to your grandma's house."

Santana glared at the ground, "Everyone was dead, and I crashed my SUV. I was…I was so scared, I grabbed Brittany and ran. Totally blanked on Tiffany, just left her in my SUV. We hid in the bathroom, managed to call Quinn. She got there in time to save all three of us, but if she hadn't…"

Sam nodded, "That's why Brittany's been quiet today? "

"She's upset with me. But now I'm kinda upset with her too. Emotions are dumb," Santana shrugged.

There was a moment's pause, and Santana watched at Sam licked his lips, before he said, "When we got let out of school early, I walked to Stevie and Stacy's school, I figured Mom or Dad would pick them up, it'd save me a walk to the hotel. The elementary had been let out earlier, but Stevie and Stacy and a few other kids were still waiting for their parents. A few of the kids lived at the hotel too, so I decided I'd take them with us, figured I'd watch them till their parents went home. All three of them were kid's I'd watched before. You wouldn't think so, but there was a sense of…community at the hotel? At least with some people. I didn't think it was that serious, figured a lot of parent's wouldn't be able to get off work. Teacher's didn't care. So we get there, like an hour later? My spidy sense was tingling a little, you know? So I'd lead them through a few back yards, and we'd zig zag and stuff without really knowing why, I must have avoided a lot of those things, but they just thought we were playing a game or something. Everyone was laughing when we got to the parking lot, and we separated. I thought about walking the other kids to their doors, but…I didn't. I was opening the door to our room when the screaming started. "

His breath hitched, and she swallowed, and managed to gently say, "Sam, it's okay, you don't have to tell me the rest."

Sam shook his head, his hair flopping around, "No, no I do. I need to tell someone…My parents? And a lot of people at the hotel? They were all hiding in the lobby with Mr. Cane. Little Suzy, she screamed first. I think it was her older sister, and her sister's toddler in the room. Suzy's mom was in the lobby with them, and when Suzy screamed, she ran out. They didn't know we were out there, that I'd brought the kids home, they thought we were safe…Then the other two kids screamed too. Alex even managed to run away, but…So most of the people in the lobby realized what was going on, that us kids were out there. And after Suzy's mom, a lot of them left the lobby. It…was a slaughter. Mom and Dad..all those people. They didn't stand a chance. I have no idea how we made it through the parking lot in the first place, maybe the zombies were…I don't know. Mr. Cane had a shot gun he kept under the counter, and he got some, enough but…he…he got us to his car, gave us his gun. He'd been bit. I didn't even put him down, I just drove away. If I hadn't…maybe…"

Santana punched his arm, and he winced, and looked at her with a hurt expression, "Don't give me those puppy eyes, they look ridiculous next to your giant fish lips. It wasn't your fault Sam. It wasn't. It's the fault of whatever government did this. Probably North Korea, but I wouldn't rule out Canada."

Sam gave Santana a smile, and said, "Thanks Santana, I think I needed to hear that."

"Yeah, like my Abuela always said, "'No se puede cambiar el pasado, pero usted puede asegurarse de que su futuro es mejor. A menos que sea totalmente imposible, en cuyo caso rezar al Santo de hacer chupas menos.' But you don't suck, so it's okay Sam."

Sam look puzzled, "I don't know what all that meant, but uh, thanks Santana. I'm going to go have Stevie and Stacy change before we leave, and show them the toys and books. Do you need help getting back over there?"

"Nah, I'm okay."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, Mrs. Puckerman totally told you to take it easy. You've been hobbling around on that knee all morning. Let me help you, I'm going over to get Stevie and Stacy _anyway_."

"Well, if it'll make you feel all manly, whatever."

Sam grinned, and before Santana knew it, he scooped her up and was carrying her bridal style to where Quinn was sitting away from everyone else with Beth.

He set her down on top of the table, and easily feinted away when she tried to punch him again. Rolling her eyes, she turned to Quinn who barely seemed to notice her arrival.

"Maybe she needs a nap or something," Santana offered as she watched Beth refuse every single toy Quinn offered her, and continue to frown at the blonde girl.

"She's only been up for a few hours though," Quinn said, sighing.

"Hand her off to Puck?"

"I tried that earlier, when we woke up? I wanted to pee in peace, since I had her all night after my very short nap, so I decided it was Puck's turn…Louise swooped in, and handed her right back to me, said he was too busy right now," Quinn grit her teeth, and tried to hand Beth a teddy bear again.

Beth threw the teddy bear down, and scrunched up her face, starting to cry quietly.

"Does she need to be changed or something Quinn. I do not want to ride in a car with a noise maker," Santana grumbled.

"No, I just checked. She's just…." A tear slipped from one of Quinn's eyes, followed by another. Santana watched at Quinn quickly wiped them away.

"You need a break," she growled, "Puck needs to have her for a bit."

"No, Santana. She's my baby, I'm responsible for her," Quinn said, stroking the crying toddler's hair.

"Puckerman did his share too Q," Santana snapped, "If I was dumb enough to get knocked up by him, you can be damned sure he'd be doing his share of the work."

Quinn looked down at the ground, not meeting Santana's eyes for a moment. Santana almost felt bad, obviously she had struck a nerve. Before Santana could figure out what to say, Kurt came storming past them, Blaine hurriedly following behind him saying, "Kurt, please, I'm sorry but he's my _father._"

"I wonder what that was about." Santana muttered, shooting a narrow eyed look towards Mr. Anderson, who was talking heatedly to Mr. Hummel.

Quinn shrugged. "I don't think Mr. Anderson is very…happy about Blaine and Kurt. He wouldn't shut up earlier before you got up. Mr. Hummel, I think, is tired of the comments and crap."

Santana's stomach rolled. She had thought, with you know, zombies in the world that a little man on man, or lady on lady loving wouldn't be a big deal now. Live and let live and all that crap. But apparently it still was. She wondered if Mr. Anderson would be the same way if Brittany and Santana's relationship was known to the whole group. If, Santana thought sourly, they still _had_ a relationship.

Quinn bent down to pick up the cast off teddy bear, "You should have seen Mr. Hummel's face when Finn asked if him and Rachel could share a room at the cabin."

Santana snorted, "Isn't there like only four bedrooms? Naturally Finnoncence is too dumb to do the math, and realize there's no way that's happening, even if we wanted a bunch of lil' Rachel Finn clones running around. Which we don't. Can you imagine the average sized, dumb, big nosed, tubby annoyances they would be?" She shuddered at the thought.

Quinn paused, and swallowed, "That'd be awful." Santana figured maybe Quinn wasn't as over Finn as she insisted, and decided to leave that obvious sore spot on Quinn alone. For now.

"So hey, I'll talk to Puck, okay? Tell him that he's being a dick. Maybe talk to Louise too."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "She dislikes you as much as she dislikes me. So good luck with that."

* * *

They'd been driving all day, and between sometimes having to drive really slowly, and numerous rest stop breaks, Santana was pretty sure they hadn't gotten as far as they could have. For one, they should have definitely been at the cabin by now. It was a four hour drive from Lima, counting bathroom breaks.

"Q," Santana said, eyes narrowing, "I think we're stopping. Again."

Quinn practically snarled, "We're never going to get to the cabin today if we keep stopping so much. We don't really need to take a bathroom break every half hour."

Santana snorted, "I think it's been more like every hour. Enlighten me, what's the optimal amount of bathroom breaks?"

"Every two hours would be ok, I guess, since there's a pregnant lady and kids. Three's preferable, especially with those things lurking around." Quinn replied sullenly. Beth clearly wasn't enjoying being stuck in the car, (Tiffany was, thankfully, but having Brittany's constant attention probably helped a lot) and was constantly asking for her momma. The constant stops and delays that were making them get to the cabin later and later weren't helping.

Santana was ready for Puck to have a turn with Beth in his truck, but Quinn had given her a look and Santana had stopped bitching about Puck taking his turn. Even if she still thought Puck needed a turn with the grumpy toddler, Quinn was being super clingy with the toddler, not that Puck was exactly jumping up and down to do more then hold Beth for a few moments now and then.

"Feels fucking weird to call them zombies, doesn't it?" Santana said as she pulled over to the side of the road, following the car in front of her, which was driven by The Mack with Rachel as her passenger. Which was still kinda weird to Santana, but whatever, they had driven to the rest stop together, maybe they'd bonded.

"Santana! Don't curse in front of my sister or Lord Tubbington. You know Lord Tubbington is trying to clean up his language, and it's harder to do it if people are swearing around him."

Santana turned, and gave Britt a half smile, "Sorry Britt. Lord Tubbington." She was glad Brittany seemed back to…well, not quite normal, for Brittany, yet, but she definitely seemed to be warming back up to Santana a tiny bit, it made Santana feel hopeful and all those warm fuzzy emotions she was usually irritated by.

Santana parked, and opened her door, "I'm going to get the Mack and Rachel, maybe the three of us saying something will get it through their thick skulls that stopping so much is going to make it take that much longer to get there, " She stated.

Quinn shrugged, "Good luck with that. They're adults Santana, obviously they know best." Quinn, to her credit, managed to contained most of her sneer when she said that.

"I'm surprised they're even following the boy's plan, instead of doing what the government was saying," Santana muttered with an eye roll.

Santana limped to the Mack's door as the other girl was opening it, and they both waited for Sam and Mike to catch up. Santana let Sam let her lean on his shoulder, and together the quartet went to Burt's SUV to see what the holdup was this time.

It was pretty obvious though, when they saw the road block, and an armed man talking to Burt. Carole saw the four of them, and waved them back, so the stood next to Kurt's SUV, where Kurt was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

* * *

A/N:

Original: No se puede cambiar el pasado, pero usted puede asegurarse de que su futuro es mejor. A menos que sea totalmente imposible, en cuyo caso rezar al Santo de hacer chupas menos.

Translation: You can not change the past but you can make sure your future is better . Unless it is completely impossible, in which case do pray to God to suck less.

The "Brittany's brain is the size of a toddler's fist " line is from episode 16 of season 3. Brittany even says she has a MRI of it. We're going to go ahead and assume that MRI is a crayon drawing she did herself, because that's ridiculous. :)

I know it's super AU in regards to Santana making sure Brittany graduated, but I couldn't believe it when the show just had Brittany fail everything without Santana knowing or being able to do anything about it.


	6. One Sweet Day

Rachel held Finn's hand tightly, conscious of all the eye's on her and their group as they walked into the hotel. Her backpack and messenger bag felt like they weighed more than her as they walked, and she wished she had taken Finn up on his offer to carry one for her. She had decided, for the moment, to leave her quilt and photo album in the station wagon.

This tiny Ohio town had apparently banded together to make their small town safe. After a few minutes of the man and Burt speaking together, they had been invited to stay. She swallowed down her nerves, and looked at Finn. He was smiling and grinning at Kurt, as they made their way through the hallway, in the motel the town had set aside for non-townies. They had parked their vehicles in the hotel's half full parking lot. They could apparently long as they wanted. They had even been assigned rooms, and job's had been given out here and there already. Obviously Louise and Carole had been assigned to the town's tiny clinic.

The town had apparently had a shipping container seller on the outskirts, and not one, but two RV dealerships and those, plus a combination of the buildings, and whatever else the town could scavenge, in addition to most of the population working hard for almost 24 hours, had meant the majority of the town's main roads and outlying areas were blocked up.

The mayor, a large blusterous man, had boasted to Burt that it was safer than anyplace else, even a military base. Rachel couldn't help but notice that the area with the shipping containers; the likely more safer area, was around the road that was around the Mayor's home.

And while she was filled with admiration for them that they were working together, Rachel could not help but be wary.

Her father's words had echoed through her head when Burt had told them about the road block, and that they were welcome to stay at the town. _"This world…The man and his family…he did a horrible thing, taking our car. He didn't mean to have your daddy die, but he knew what he was doing leaving us on the side of that road. He tried to make himself feel better by leaving the rifle, to help his guilt. But he was doing what he had to do protect his family."_

People, when push came to shove, would protect their own. Rachel and the New Directions were not the only travelers to be held up at the road block.

Realistically, Rachel knew that it was only the second day, and she was simply reacting to the trauma she experienced, and that it was unlikely that anything as serious as what happened to Rachel and her father's would happen here, but she was still guarded. She settled for sticking close to Finn.

"Rachel," Finn whispered gently, "I know you're scared, but we're safe here. "

"Perhaps we are," she said softly, clutching her suitcase in her other hand, "I feel we would be better off at the cabin."

Finn shrugged, "Burt and Mr. Anderson and Mr. Schue think it'll be safer here, maybe. Rachel -"

Whatever Finn was about to say was interrupted by Jacob Ben Israel, giving Rachel a slimy look, then saying to Finn, "Puckerman told me to get you. Some of the other guys in town invited us to play some game that was out this month."

"Oh cool man," Finn said to Jacob, then turned back to Rachel, "Look, it'll be fine Rachel. We've got walls, and everyone knows how to handle zombies, this'll be just like the movies but we'll be smart since we've all seen the movies." He nodded to the room they were standing in front of, "That's yours. You're sharing with Tina, Kurt and…the Mack right?"

"Yes. But Finn, I would rather we did not separate just yet, I.." The words caught in her throat, as she remembered Jacob's presence next to them. She did not want to share how she was feeling where Jacob could hear, and allow him to have that little piece of her. She settled for giving Finn a look she hoped conveyed her need to speak to him alone. Finn, either not realizing what she wanted, or just choosing to ignore her, just smiled at her, gave her a hug, and went off with Jacob, leaving her standing by herself, holding her suitcase.

She took several deep breaths, trying not to cry. She had forgiven Finn for last night, and she would forgive him for this. It was not his fault that he was a teenage boy who did not understand the seriousness of the situation, or her feelings. She was clingy, she knew this, it was her fault really.

She took another deep breath, and opened the door.

The hotel room had two beds, and Kurt's numerous suitcases covered one. Tina's black garbage bag stuffed with all her worldly belongings sat sadly on the floor next to the dresser. Neither of them were in the room.

Mack's army duffle bag was sitting on the other bed, and a frowning Mack was sitting next to it, iPad and phone sitting around her, making Rachel wince internally at seeing the other girl's boot clad feet on the bed.

Mack looked up at her, and managed a lopsided grin before she looked back down and snarled at her phone and iPad.

"Hey. Check your phone and see if it's got a signal, will you? Either both my phone and my IPad have craped out, or whatever."

"I do not have my phone, Mack. It was left in my father's vehicle." Rachel said, trying not to choke out the words. She knew full well how silly it was to get so upset about a phone.

"Hey hey, no crying. There's no crying in baseball or rooms you're sharing with The Mack," Mack said, tossing her phone onto one of the pillows, and jumping off the bed. "Looks like you 'n me are sharing again. You gonna unpack? I'm not."

Rachel wiped away the tears pooling in her eyes, and smiled softly at Mack. "I would not have pegged you as someone who has watched 'A League of Their Own' enough times to quote it, Mack. Why are you not going to unpack?"

"It's my third favorite movie," Mack grinned at her, before going serious again, "Well, I think Hummel is going to take up most of the closet and dresser space," she gestured to Kurt's numerous suitcases, "But even if he wasn't, I'm not going to hold my breath that we'll be here long. Government's saying to go to a military base or stay home for a reason, isn't it? And that Mayor is going to be worse than Jesse St. James on a power trip, I can tell."

At Jesse's name, Rachel frowned, "That is right, you would have known Jesse...and Shelby. Do you think he's okay?" She pulled her suitcase till it sat smartly next to the nightstand, then set her backpack and messenger bag next to it neatly, deciding in that moment to not to unpack either. She sternly told herself she was not unpacking because Mack's argument was logical, not because she wanted Mack to like her.

Mack snorted, "He's fine, St. James always made sure he came out on top."

Before either girl could say anything else, the door slammed open, and a furious looking Santana limped in, dragging a Cheerio duffle bag behind her, a shawl and hoodie tossed on it. Without a word to either of them, she made it to the other bed, angrily flopped on it, and kicked most of Kurt's suitcases off with her good leg.

"Santana, are you alright?" Rachel asked quietly.

"Hobbit, do I _look_ alright?" Santana finished kicking Kurt's suitcases off the bed, and flopped backwards, staring at the ceiling.

"I believe those were Kurt's suitcases, and he was going to share that bed with Tina?" Rachel said tentatively.

"He can sleep on the floor, _I'm_ sharing with Tina now. Apparently. " Santana pulled the shawl over her face, clearly indicating the conversation was over.

Mack shrugged, and picked up her phone again, and Rachel sighed. She was not looking forward to sharing a room with Santana, especially if the Latina girl continued to be so mean.

* * *

Quinn shifted Beth from one hip to the other, mechanically making soothing noises to the sobbing toddler.

"Want Momma," Beth said.

"I'm your momma, Beth."

"No momma! Want Momma!" With that, Beth went into a full scale temper tantrum, wiggling so wildly Quinn set her on the carpeted floor of the tiny hotel room the pair of them had been assigned by the town's secretary, who had looked long and hard judgingly at Quinn before saying the pair would get their own room, since there was plenty of space right now they didn't need to worry about it. If there was a huge amount of out of towners later, Quinn had already been efficiently assigned to share with Louise, Sarah, and Puck.

Quinn just stood there, watching her daughter kick and scream numbly.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Quinn, turn away from her. She's tired and confused. She'll tire herself out in a few minutes. Then you can put her to bed for a noon nap." Louise murmured from behind Quinn.

"I-" Quinn said, turning from Beth towards Louise, who stood in the doorway to Quinn's hotel room.

"I told you it's going to be hard, Quinn," Louise said in that 'I-told-you-so' mother's use, "It would be a good idea to get a few books on adoption. Yes, I know you are her birth mother, but she's spent her entire life without you. It won't be an easy adjustment at first." Louise must have seen something in Quinn's face, because she added, "I'll take care of her for a few hours, alright? And I'll help you as much as I can Quinn. Puck too, when he can. It'll be okay," She finished with a sigh. Quinn let out a sigh of her own.

If Quinn had just kept her daughter, this wouldn't be a problem right now. Things would have been better. Everything would have been better.

"Thanks Louise," She muttered, and leaving Beth in Louise's capable hands, grabbed her backpack and went into the hallway. Quinn would get as many books as it took for her to learn to properly care for Beth, she just needed time. She should have realized it wouldn't be that simple, that Beth wasn't used to her yet. Tomorrow, she vowed, she wouldn't leave Beth's side. And she'd make Puck do his share, he was Beth's _father_, he should be there for her.

She passed through the hallway, stopping briefly to peek into the room Brittany had been given to share with Tiffany. Santana too. But Brittany had whispered to Santana when they were walking to the room, and Santana had stormed off. Brittany poked her head out of the door, and smiled at Quinn.

"Q! Hi, we're unpacking. Well, I'm unpacking, Tiffany and Lord Tubbington are watching a movie. I didn't think there'd be movies anymore, that the zombies would eat them when they couldn't get people, but there are! Where's Beth?"

"With Louise," Quinn gave a tired smile to Brittany, "I'm going to go see Mack and Santana…"

Brittany looked down, "I'm still…"

"I know Britts, I know. But she needs you, especially now, you know that."

"I know. I'm trying to not be mad at her, I really am. I just…I just need more time. "

"Well, I guess you have time. This place seems just as good as the cabin, and we got out of the cars," Quinn shrugged, and leaned lazily against the wall.

"Safer maybe because there's so many more people. I was assigned to assist with the kids, there's going to be a school again. Were you assigned anywhere yet? I wonder if I can teach dancing later? Do you think we'll have to go to school too?"

"No, not yet. I bet you could, Britts, and maybe?" Quinn gave her friend a soft smile, and rolled her shoulders back, relaxing a little.

"Quinn, I-" A squeal from Tiffany interrupted Brittany, who disappeared briefly to speak to her sister, then returned with an apologetic smile, they said their goodbyes, and Quinn headed down the hall to Mack's room. The faded pattern on the carpet matched the generic paintings on the walls. The hotel looked like it wanted to rise above its pass through town status and evolve into a homey bed and breakfast.

She knew Rachel was sharing the room too.

She hadn't gotten much sleep last night; the short nap she had had helped. But mostly she drifted in and out of sleep. At one point, she did dream during that hazy time when you weren't sleeping, but weren't quite awake.

She couldn't remember the dream, it had drifted away from her moments after she had woken up to Beth's whining and unease. All she recalled was a snap shot of Rachel's outraged face staring daggers at her.

At the door to their room, Quinn stood silently, trying to gear herself up to face Rachel. She took a deep breath, and prepared to knock when someone walked past her, bumping into her.

She turned and glared at the three girls that just kept walking, not even acknowledging they had shoved her into the door.

"Excuse you," She snapped at their backs. One, a short and chubby bottled redhead stopped, causing her friends to stop too, and turned around. She looked Quinn up and down, finally stopping on Quinn's pink hair. "You're excused." She smirked, and then her and her two friends turned around, and kept going to wherever they were going, their Ugg's softly stepping on the carpet.

Quinn glared at their retreating forms, the anger cursing through her replacing the dull, tired feeling she had been feeling for a while now. Quinn grit her teeth, and pounded on the door.

The door opened up only a few inches, but upon seeing it was Quinn, it opened all the way.

"Hello Quinn. Please come in, Mack and" Rachel sighed, "Santana are both here. How are you, and Beth?"

"Fine," Quinn grunted, not able to bring herself to look Rachel in the eyes. She pushed past Rachel, every inch she touched the other girl felt like it would burn her skin off, and found herself in the middle of a pile of suitcases, staring at Santana's shawl covered form.

"Santana, " Quinn looked around, licked her lips, pulled the shawl off of Santana's face, finished, "Why don't you stay with Beth and me? There's already four people in this room. "

Santana scowled, "And be stuck with your crying, pooping lizard baby? No thanks."

She raised an eyebrow, and stared at Santana, "If you're sure. Mack, you wanna share with me instead?"

Mack set her shoulders back, and stared at Quinn, "I'd rather not, thanks. Rachel, why don't you share with Quinn?"

Before Quinn could object, Rachel looked back and forth at Santana and Quinn, then said, "Yes, I believe I shall. "

Dimly, Quinn mechanically answered Rachel's questions about the room number, and Beth's current whereabouts, and watched as Rachel gathered her stupid pink rolling suitcase and her other things, and left the room, promising Quinn that she would be no bother, and would help with Beth as she left.

The room sat in silence once Rachel's quiet chattering was gone, and Santana said, "Ugh, I think I need to go see Mrs. Puckerman. I hope she won't hold out on the ibuprofen because I went all Snix on her about Puck helping with Beth."

Quinn shrugged, "She's helping with Beth now, so it worked. Kinda. I guess. Thanks?"

"Yeah, well, I don't know if it's worth it or not, my knee hurts like hell."

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad if you stayed off it like you're supposed to," Quinn said dryly.

"Maybe," Santana sighed heavily, then sat up and heaved off the bed. "See you bitches later," she called over her shoulder as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

There was a pregnant pause, and Quinn moved uneasily from where she stood to next to Mack on the bed.

With a disguised noise, Mack tossed her IPad and phone on a pillow.

"I'm not getting a signal here, think I have to go wander the town till I find one," Mack finally said.

"Want me to come with you? Safer, maybe." Quinn offered, playing with a loose string on the threadbare floral comforter.

"Nah. You need to be with your kid," Mack said.

Quinn shrugged, "I need a break, Louise has her now, and hopefully Puck will take her later."

"Jesus Quinn," Mack spat, "There's fucking zombies walking around. So this place is probably safe, so what! If I were you, if I had the chance to have my baby back? I sure as hell wouldn't be leaving his side, not for a minute. "

"Mack…" Quinn said…"She keeps asking for her mom. It's hard to hear. Your son, he knew you were his mom. It's…it's not the same." Quinn looked down, not able to meet Mack's eyes. If Mack only knew what Quinn had done to get her baby back.

"You're damn right it's not the same Q. " Mack stood up, and picked up a decorative vase sitting on the dresser. She walked to the bathroom, and Quinn heard a loud smashing noise as the vase shattered into a million pieces from where Mack threw it. "Keep an eye on Beth, okay? We've all seen enough zombie movies, shit happens. " She said when she returned to Quinn.

"I will. I just need…I just need today." Quinn mumbled, still not able to meet Mack's eyes.

"I bet Rachel will help out," Mack said, "More than Santana would have."

"Maybe. " Biting her lip, Quinn added, "I wish you hadn't asked her if she wanted to room with me."

Mack snorted, "Whatever your problem with her, Santana has a bigger one. Between her bitching at Rachel, and Hummel bitching about closet space, I'd have ended up sleeping in the hall. I don't get why you guys hate her so much, she seems alright or whatever. Well, I get your problem with her, but everyone else?"

"I…I don't hate her. I don't think Santana does either. Rachel's just…Rachel. You've only seen the 'Zombie Apocalypse' version of her, usually she's a lot louder and…" Quinn felt the words die in her throat, shame at the way she, and the others had treated Rachel in the past cursing through her, mingling with the guilt about what she had done to protect her baby, what she had done to Rachel's mother.

"Could have fooled me. She, hell we _all_, have noticed that you've said maybe three words to her, and you just like, see through her." Mack stretched, and added, "Enough mushy crap, I'm going to go try to find a cell signal or an internet connection."

Quinn stood up. She couldn't go back to her room, and face Rachel right now. The ran a hand through her hair, and licked her lips, before finally muttering, "I…I feel bad about Shelby. Guilt. She was Rachel's mom, and I just..."

Mack shoved her phone into her jacket, and tucked her IPad under her arm, then sighed, and said, "Maybe you should talk to Rachel, if you feel that bad. Seriously, enough mushy crap, let's go see if this town get's a signal anywhere, I'm just dying to know if Ronnie's cousin George's boyfriend will be allowed to stay at the cabin with her family. It'll be good to know in case we end up going there."

Silently, Quinn followed Mack out the door, wondering how she was going to talk to Rachel. She couldn't just ignore her, if they were sharing a room. The guilt was going to eat her alive if she was forced to be in Rachel's presence for however long they would be staying in this town.

* * *

Rachel, mindful that there was a toddler in this room, even if apparently she was not in here right now, dragged the uncomfortable armchair to the closet, and standing on it, she carefully set her rifle up on the closets top shelf, shoved against the wall, with her father's messenger bag against it. There was a lump next to it, and Rachel pulled the lump out to look at it.

It was presumably Quinn's gun. She shoved it back to where it was.

It was not exactly a locked safe, but she felt much better at having the rifle nearby, (and Quinn's gun as well) and was confident that there was no way Beth would get to either of them. The townspeople had forced them to give up their guns for safe keeping in the town's small bank vault, but Rachel had simply slid her rifle under the seat, and retrieved it after moving into Quinn's room. Thankfully, they had not searched their vehicles.

She was uneasy at sharing a room with Quinn and Shelby's daughter, but she would much rather have Quinn's silence then Santana's comments.

She unrolled her sleeping bag, and the blankets folded up in it, and carefully made herself a sleeping spot in the small space in-between the bed and the wall. She highly doubted Quinn would like to share the bed with her, so it was easier to make it clear that she had no expectations of such right now. She fluffed her pillow, then stood up.

She set her backpack down on her sleeping spot, then moved the chair back to where she had found it. She sat on it, and stared at the door for a moment. Perhaps she should go to the restaurant that served as the town's cafeteria and enquire about vegan foods? She knew she would eventually have to migrate to vegetarianism for now she would eat vegan as long as she was able. She was growing tired of eating her vegan protein bars already, so hopefully there would be other choices now. She stood up, and took the few steps towards the door (this room was quite small, she thought ruefully), and opened it.

Sam was standing there, his hand about to knock, Tina and Mike behind him, Brittany holding her sister's hand next to them.

"Oh hey, uh oh hi Rachel," Sam looked at her, and ran a hand through his hair, "Uh, we were looking for Quinn? But you can come to, I mean, we're just going to the cafeteria?" He stumbled over his words, and Tina cuddle closer to Mike, the awkwardness making them all uncomfortable.

Rachel pushed down the surge of jealousy she felt at seeing Mike with Tina, instead of off playing video games or whatever Finn was doing. It wasn't fair; she had suffered as much, if not more than Tina, but her boyfriend wasn't comforting _her_.

She took a deep breath, and said, "I was planning on venturing to the cafeteria, so I will gladly accompany you. Quinn is elsewhere with the Mack, we shall be sharing the room as Santana is now in Tina and the Mack's room," she rushed out quickly.

Sam, a little wide-eyed, just said, "Uh, okay Rachel. "

"Santana's in our room?" Tina asked quietly. Brittany busied herself with fussing with Tiffany's ponytail.

"Yes. So I felt it was prudent that one of us move elsewhere, to keep the room from being too crowded." Rachel said primly, stepping outside the door and closing it securely. She pulled her father's jacket closer to her, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"And Quinn said it was okay for _you_ to share with _her?_" Mike asked, not totally unkindly as he snuggled closer to Tina as the group starting walking, Rachel trailing slightly behind.

"She voiced no objections," Rachel responded. Which was true. Even if Quinn's face obviously said she did not want to share with Rachel, she hadn't _actually_ said anything. It was possible she would later however.

The conversation trailed off from there as they walked the five blocks from the hotel to the cafeteria. Rachel wasn't sure if it was her presence, or simply that no one had anything to say, beyond Brittany, every so often, pointing out something to her little sister.

Rachel was filled with trepidation about many things; she was concerned with being able to eat more than her vegan protein bars, with thoughts of Finn, with her hopefully budding friendship with the Mack, and the realities of sharing a room with Quinn Fabray.

Quinn Fabray, and Beth Corcoran.

* * *

Quinn looked down the three story building they were on the roof of, watching the people around them. They had wandered the town for an hour, before deciding to climb the tallest building and seeing if they got a phone signal there. They had, and they had both sent a few texts to the other Skanks, getting updated on then. Quinn had sent a text to her sister, asking if she was safe, and sent directions to the cabin just in case. It wasn't exactly the safe town Quinn was in, but she'd rather her sister and her family be safe away from Quinn, as awful as that was. She hadn't gotten a reply, not that she'd really even expected one.

Ronnie's Cousin's boyfriend would be allowed to stay. Sheila hadn't made it to the prison her father was at yet, but should in a few days.

She tried to control the yawn that was threatening to form, and kept looking around, enjoying the feeling that yesterday had just been a horrible nightmare. There were paint cans, and long handled paint rollers sitting sloppily in a corner, other than that there wasn't anything else up here. It could really use a few chairs, Quinn decided. Maybe a table.

"Q," Mack said from next to her, and pointed, "Isn't that the bitch who shoved you into a door?"

Lazily, Quinn looked, and nodded, "Chubby fake redhead, yup."

Mack let out a barking laugh, then said, "Even from up here I can tell her foundation is too orange for her skin tone, Jesus."

They said more disparaging things about the redhead and her friends, before Quinn noticed Santana leaning on Puck, heading towards the small park in town. She frowned when Santana kissed Puck in a way the girl should definitely not be kissing him.

"I thought her and Brittany were a thing," Mack asked nonchalantly when she noticed what Quinn was looking at.

"So did I. I didn't think Santana would…but Brittany is still upset with her, so maybe," Quinn muttered, standing up.

"Where are you going Q?"

"Talk some sense into her before she does something that'll be unfixable," Quinn stretched, and started towards the roof access door.

"Well, hey maybe you should talk to Puckerman about your kid too. Probably time to go find Mrs. Puckerman and get her anyway," Mack called to her.

Quinn stopped, and turned around, "Probably. Mack…I'm sorry that-"

"Seriously, stop with the mushy crap. I'll get over it, and stop bugging you, I promise."

"I don't know if that's something you'll ever really…get over?"

Mack looked down, "Maybe not. But I don't really have a choice do I?" She started playing around with her iPad, clearly not wanting to talk any more. Quinn sighed, and opened the door, and stepped lightly, not wanting to draw any attention. It didn't take her long to get to the park, where Puck and Santana were leaning against a tree making out.

"Wow Santana, does Brittney know you're out here making out with Puck," She asked dryly, causing the pair to jump, and move apart. Santana and Brittany's relationship wasn't any of her business, not really. But they had both suffered so much in the last 24 hours, there wasn't any reason for either of them to be hurt anymore because they were both too stubborn to talk to each other.

"Brittney knows I need to get my mack on, Quinn," Santana said, a warning edge to her voice, "And it's not like she's going to care anyway, " Santana added bitterly.

"And what about you Puck?" Quinn glared at the mohawked boy.

"Ease up Baby Momma, there's plenty of Puck to go around, and we gotta repopulate" Puck said, giving Quinn an easy grin.

"_Don't_ call me _that_," Quinn spat out, "And for all your talk about being better than your father, now that we have our daughter back, who's the one who has been taking care of her? Not you, that's for sure," Quinn walked closer to the pair, not wanting any nosy townspeople

"Where _is_ your lizard baby Quinn? _You_ don't have her," Santana said, sneering at Quinn.

Quinn grit her teeth, "Louise has her, and you_ know_ that."

"Well you can't really bitch about Puck taking care of her, when you aren't," Santana pointed out smugly.

Quinn let out an exasperated noise, and glared at the Latina girl, "You know I'm having trouble, Beth wants Shelby and I only have a vague idea of what I'm doing. I needed a break. Louise has promised to help me, " She jerked a nod at Puck, and glared at him too, "Puck, you're crazy if you think anyone is going to want to repopulate the world with you. You haven't done more then hold Beth for a few minutes."

Puck shrugged, "Come on Quinn, I'm busy. Mom says you and Beth need time to bond. I'll help out where it matters most, I got assigned to patrolling the fence. So hey, unless you want to join us, Me and Santana were a little busy."

Santana made a disguised noise, and pulled away from Puck, "Maybe later Puck, I'm not in the mood anymore. And I'm not having your babies."

"Come on Santana," Puck leaned down and started whispering into Santana's ear, and the girl rolled her eyes, and limped to stand next to Quinn then said, "No Puck."

"Whatever. Plenty of ladies in town, I saw a couple of MILFs I'll go talk to, or maybe go back to the boys, even though there's a long ass line for a turn at the game." Puck grinned at them, then sauntered off. Quinn called after him, irritated, "Go see if you can help Louise with Beth! You can't just be there for the fun stuff Puck!"

The girls watched him leave, before, pissed off, Quinn whirled onto Santana, "What the hell Santana."

She started at Santana, who pointedly refused to look her in the eyes, so Quinn added, "Santana, you and Brittany…"

Santana spat out, "There is no me and Brittany! She didn't want me sharing a room with her, she's never going to forgive me, so we're over before we even got a chance to start, okay?"

"But Puck? Santana, I thought you.." Quinn said, trailing off.

"I am. God, am I. But that hasn't stopped me from being with Puck before, why should it now? I already feel like shit, no reason not to feel bad about that too," Santana said, then added, "He's almost as good as Brittany with his tongue, so if I closed my eyes and tried to pretend really really hard…"

Quinn winced, and slung an arm around Santana to help her walk, "I didn't need to know that. Come on, let's go to Brittany's room. We'll wait for her. I'll take Tiffany to my room and you two are going to have a long talk."

Santana frowned, but accepted Quinn's help, and they started walking back to the hotel, "Come on, you slept with Puck and made your little oops. You can't tell me he's not good at some things."

Quinn's memory of her daughter's conception was filtered through the feeling that having sex before marriage was wrong, that she was having sex with her boyfriend's best friend, that this was all wrong wrong wrong.

"I guess," Quinn admitted. That part hadn't felt so wrong; she had closed her eyes and imagined it was…she pushed that thought away. She wasn't thinking like that, there was zombies walking around and her parents were dead, and it was stupid and silly and had no chance of happening even more now, since she couldn't even speak or look at…

Santana, not noticing how Quinn had gone quiet, continued softly, "I'm just so scared Q. What if…?"

Swallowing, Quinn said, "Of the zombies? So am I."

Santana snorted, "Who isn't scared of the zombies, Quinn. Maybe Finn, he's dumb enough to not be. No, I meant…Brittany. What if she just refuses to talk to me, and it really is…completely over. What do I do then?"

"Switch with Rachel, and share my room?" Quinn said dryly, then added, "She'll talk to you, I keep telling her…look, you'll be fine, okay? But trust me, sleeping with Puck will solve nothing."

Santana shrugged, and Quinn sighed. They continued to the hotel in silence.

* * *

Quaint. That was the only word Rachel could nicely use to call the restaurant the town had deemed the place to eat and get supplies from. While she admired them for their organization, and quick thinking…the restaurant was quite…quant. She picked at her salad (which was little more than slightly wilted lettuce absolutely slathered in watery ranch dressing and cheese. She'd picked off as much as she could, but every now and then she'd get a bite where the cheese would absolutely over power even the ranch. The middle aged woman in charge of the food practically laughed in her face when she had asked about vegan, or even vegetarian options. She could see the poor baby cows mooing for their mothers when she closed her eyes, and that reminded her painfully that she was forever without her parents,) and occasionally smiled or laughed softly at Sam's impression or joke (neither Tina nor Mike were able to muster any jokes. It was any wonder Sam was, but then again he did seem to be trying just a touch too hard. Brittany was more focused on her sister then her fellow New Directions, which was understandable to Rachel. If only Rachel had a younger sibling to focus her attention on…If only the baby her and her father had stumbled upon had been alive, she thought mournfully.) She had attempted to join the conversation as to attempt normalcy, but every time she spoke she got the distinct impression that no one cared what she had to say, and were only making polite noises of interest. So she had gradually grown quieter and quieter until she had not spoken in several minutes.

She had not felt like speaking anyway. In fact, she thought poking at her salad, it was nearly four pm and she was quite ready to the retire to her room. Well, Quinn's room. Her sleeping bag. She neatly pushed her still rather full plate away, and waited for a lull in the conversation before primly saying "Thank you for inviting me, this was a pleasant diversion, " she paused a moment as the lie came out easily. In actually, this had been dreadful, from the food to the company that Rachel was quite sure would had rather she had just stayed in Quinn's room. "But I do believe I have several things to do before we retire to sleep tonight, so I must be leaving now," She finished, stood up, shoulders back, making sure to not betray her feelings any more than her quietness had already done. She was a rather good actress, it was dreadful that Broadway was likely off the table forever now.

"See you later Rachel," Mike said, prompting the others to do the same. She was almost entertain she was only imaging that they seemed to breathe a sigh of relief collectively.

Brittany, from where she had been engrossed with her sister, said "We're done too. I don't even have any leftovers for Lord Tubbington."

"I'll walk you guys back to the hotel," Sam said, "I don't want to be the third wheel to the lovebirds, " he added sheepishly.

"My mom's going to meet me here in a few minutes, " Mike said, then looked at Tina, "You too, if you want?"

Tina looked uncomfortable, "No, I think I'll head back with them," she said softly, and gave Mike a weak smile. The two said goodbye lovingly, and that burst of envy went through Rachel again. Rachel silently followed behind the three blondes, an also silent Tina next to her.

"Tina," Rachel said softly, looking at the Asian girl closely. Tina's eyes were slightly swollen from crying, and red. It was important, that no matter how saddened Rachel was, no matter how much she was grieving, that she did her best to ensure her fellow New Direction members were okay. Even if none of them had the same consideration for her "How are you?"

Tina gave Rachel a wary look, "I'm…I'm alright," she finally said with a shrug. The other girl limped ever so slightly, and Rachel debated for a moment about asking if she wanted assistance, before deciding against it.

Tina added softly, "I heard about your dads. I'm sorry Rachel."

Rachel looked down, "Thank you. I am sorry about your parents as well Tina. "

Tina added hesitantly, in a rush. Rachel had the feeling that Tina needed to say the words, but had no one else to say it to, "I called Mike, and he rescued me. While he was gone…his whole family was at his Grandfather's…someone was bit. His mom was the only one who was alive by the time he got back. I think…I think his mom blames me. " The other girl looked down, eyes watering.

Just as hesitantly, Rachel reached out, and squeezed the other girl's hand, then let go. "That is a foolish thought, Tina. If Mike's mother _does_ blame you, it is simply a reaction to the trauma she has endured the past twenty four hours, and she will come to her senses soon."

Tina looked down, "You're probably right Rachel, thanks." The conversation trailed off, and both girls continued in silence, listening to Sam and Brittany make plans for their siblings to go the library together in a bit. Rachel's thoughts meandered painfully to the last meal she had shared with her father's.

So deep in thought she was, she barely noticed when she arrived at the room. She said a quiet goodbye to the others, and Rachel had barely stepped inside and closed the door before Quinn came in, brushed past her leaving the scent of strawberries, sunshine, and soap. It was almost comforting. Quinn flopped on the bed and Rachel took a deep breath. She needed to speak to Quinn, and while she doubted they would totally clear the air between them, at the very least she would get Quinn to look at her, and acknowledge her presence. She would not be able to stay in a room where her presence was barely tolerated.

* * *

Quinn felt Rachel's presence in the small room acutely. It was all she could do to not flee back to the Mack, or go hide in Brittany's room, interrupting whatever was happening with Santana and Brittany. She really should go get Beth, but she couldn't bring herself to get out the bed.

Rachel cleared her throat, obviously trying to get Quinn's attention.

Quinn leapt up, and rushed into the bathroom, shucking her clothes along the way. She hopped into the shower, and turned it on, and up as high as it'd go. She washed up quickly, then just stood under the hard spray until the water started going cold.

She stepped out, grabbed a towel, and dried off quickly. She wrapped it around her, then used the hotel's tiny blow-dryer to dry her hair. Her backpack had been shoved in here since it had her toiletries in it, and she hadn't bothered to unpack it yet. She rummaged through it when Rachel knocked on the door, and opened it slightly, sticking her head in and softly said her name, "Quinn?"

"Rachel," Quinn stated flatly. She barely made herself quickly glance at the girl, before focusing intently on her backpack.

"I'm sorry to intrude on what is undoubtedly precious alone time, but I feel as though we should talk. Plus I would like to brush my teeth. Good dental health is important, especially at this time," Rachel said, opening the door slightly, standing in the doorway clutching her toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.

"I…well, I know we are not exactly friends, Quinn, but since it appears that we are going to be sharing a room, I feel that it is…" Rachel trailed off, and Quinn forced herself to look the other girl in the eyes. That seemed to give Rachel a little more confidence, and the girl continued, "I feel that it is important that we speak candidly." Rachel moved hesitantly into the bathroom, closing the door partly behind her. Quinn motioned to the sink.

Quinn took her contacts out while Rachel brushed her teeth, and tried not to enjoy how homey it felt. Or how silent Rachel now was.

When Rachel was done, she turned to Quinn and looked at her seriously, "Do you have any floss? I neglected to remember any, and Daddy always says…said, that flossing was important," Rachel looked sad, and more than anything at that moment, Quinn wanted her happy, even if they had yet to have that talk Rachel wanted to have. Unable to let herself speak, she just rummaged around her backpack, and pulled out an unopened box of floss, and handed it to her.

"Thank you Quinn," Rachel smiled at her.

"It's not a problem Rachel. Keep it, I've got more," Quinn shrugged, and dallied around by pretending to look through her backpack for something. She didn't want to leave the bathroom, and Rachel, she wanted to enjoy the homey, safe feeling. But at the same time, it was so hard to be near Rachel right now. So she pretended there was something she really really wanted to find in her backpack, that she couldn't, in the silence and awkwardness. It made her feel like a dork. A Lucy Caboosey Dork. Which made her annoyed, because this was_ Rachel Berry_.

Finally, for lack of anything else, she said, "I'm really sorry about your dads. They loved you a lot, and it showed. My parents are gone too. So are Tina's, Santana's, Brittany's and Sam's. It…it doesn't make it any better, I know, but at least you aren't alone."

Rachel paused in flossing her teeth, and looked at Quinn from the mirror, and said, "Thank you Quinn. I am sorry about your parents, as well. I think it is important for us to express our sorrow to each other."

Quinn took a deep breath, and then, after a moment, guilt welling up inside her, said, "I'm sorry about Shelby too Rachel. I just…I feel so bad, I didn't mean to be so cold to you, I…Mack said I should talk to you about…that it'd help the guilt. She's dead, and I have Beth now. I'm just so sorry I had to kill to protect Beth. I_ had_ to protect _my_ baby. I killed so many to save Brittany, Tiffany, and Santana too... "

"They weren't alive anymore Quinn," Rachel said gently, "You freed them from being one of those things."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Rachel said, "I…we heard a baby crying, and couldn't just leave it to die. We went into a building, and found it. It was one of those things…..Oh, it must have been horrible, Papa wouldn't let me see. He used the rifle to put the poor thing out of its misery. That let the rest in the building know we were there. They were faster, and we barely got out…one of them scrapped their teeth against his hand. It was enough. We…I was so sure, since we had found the Mack who was in the process of getting a vehicle, that we were going to be ok. As okay as we could possibly be without Daddy. But…it was enough to infect him. I had to shoot him, Quinn. He died, and I had to shoot him so he wouldn't be one of those things walking around trying to hurt people. "

"I'm sorry Rachel. I had to …free my parents too," Quinn wanted to reach over and hold Rachel's hand, but held back.

After a moment of silence, Rachel looked at Quinn seriously, "Please do not be too upset about Shelby, Quinn. While the loss of any life is saddening, do not be upset on my behalf. She was no more of a parent or mother to me then the cashier at the farmer's market."

Quinn bit her lip and looked away, unable to believe Rachel.

"I…thought, at first, when you gave your baby to her that you were doing it because you hated me, " Rachel continued, looking intently at her reflection in the mirror, even though she was done flossing her teeth and had thrown the floss away in the trash.

"I don't hate you Rachel. I-"

"I understood that eventually. It was hurtful, but I grew up and over it Quinn. "

"I didn't think about what it would do to you, Rachel, if your recently back in your life mother had a new daughter. I'm sorry for that, I'm sure it made things harder between you two."

Rachel away from the mirror, where she had been fiddling with braiding her hair, and down at the beige bathroom counter, "Shelby had told me that she did not want a relationship anyway Quinn. That she had expected to find a child who needed her. She said I was too old, I did not need a mother. So her having Beth did not affect our relationship any, because there was not one."

Quinn looked incredulous, then scowled "You were sixteen! Of course you still needed your parents."

"Fifteen, actually. My birthday is in December," Rachel paused, as if letting Quinn digest that fact. Quinn was fairly certain she knew that, already. "Perhaps I wasn't as talented, beautiful, or smart as Shelby dreamed I would be. I had two wonderful father's, anyway, and it was rather selfish of me to expect a third as wonderful parent. It is a moot point now, as Shelby is dead so there is no chance of us having a real relationship. I am glad you have Beth back, Quinn. You and Puck have a real chance to raise her now."

Quietly, Quinn murmured, "I think you're plenty talented, beautiful and smart Rachel."

"I-I. Well. Thank you Quinn." Rachel seemed speechless, and some of Quinn's guilt faded away, knowing how Rachel felt -or at least_ said_ she felt, about Shelby. Some.

With a burst of bravery, Quinn muttered, "You can share the bed with me and Beth…it'll be tight, and she'll probably keep you up, but it'll be more comfortable then the floor."

"Oh. Why thank you Quinn, I had not wanted to presume I would be…I'll just go unmake my bedding, then," Rachel said, and giving Quinn a brilliant grin, left the bathroom.

Quinn stared at herself in the mirror, before looking down at the counter. She felt warm, and alive. That dull feeling was mostly gone now; and she knew it was because sometimes you had to play with fire, even if you knew you were going to get burned.

Scared, a frantic Rachel ran back into the bathroom, making Quinn jump, even as Rachel said "Quinn, Quinn!"

Fear swallowed Quinn whole, and for a moment all she could do was stare at the brunette, frozen, before Rachel took her hand, and pulled her out of the bathroom to the window. They stepped all over Rachel's sleeping bag and blankets, which were obviously dropped from where Rachel had been holding them when she looked out the window. Silently Rachel just pointed.

Quinn could smell the scent of death and decay even as she looked out the open window. A hoard (there was simply no other word to describe it) of zombies flowed through the streets like water in a river. People caught outside ran screaming, while others like Rachel and Quinn watched through windows and glass doors, as terrified looking as Quinn felt. Quinn barely noticed that her and Rachel were still holding hands, or how warm Rachel's hand was, as she wondered where Mack and everyone else were, if they were safe. If her _baby_ was safe. She realized she had absolutely no idea where her daughter was, if she was even still alive.


	7. Bullet in my Hand

She had chickened out of talking to Brittany, and as soon as Quinn's door had closed, had hoofed it outside, her knee ached fiercely but whatever. Brittany had gone with Sam to the library anyway. She'd spotted Mack on a roof, and had quickly found her way up there, taking a spot as far from the Mack as she could get.

She'd almost slept with Puck. Which, whatever, it's not like she hasn't done it a hundred times before. Hell, if she wasn't so strict with not one, not two, but _three_ forms of birth control, it could have easily been her giving birth to Puck's baby Sophomore year. She shuddered a little at the thought. Her parents would have freaked. Her Abuela would have forced Puck to marry her with a shotgun. The rest of her family would have gossiped for_ years_. Brittany would have…she frowned. Brittany would have been sad, but happy because Brittany freaking loved babies and children. Sometimes she'd tell Santana she'd already come up with names for their first six children, which yeah, freaked Santana the hell out. One baby was a shit ton of work and money, but six? _First_ six? Santana would always roll her eyes at Brittany, go "Sure Britt's" then change the subject. Usually with lady kisses.

Maybe Santana had taken Brittany for granted. Yeah, she'd always planned a future with Brittany, even when she was dating Puck. But she had never actually told Brittany that, had she? That'd be like, feelings and sharing and stuff she didn't really believe in. She'd just assumed Brittany knew, since Brittany would talk about their future children, and off handedly mention something here and there about their future.

"Hey, Santana?" Mack said eventually.

Santana ignored her.

"Santana, seriously." Mack continued.

Irritated, Santana turned towards her glaring. "Just because we're both friends with Quinn, doesn't mean _we're_ friends Skankalicious…" Santana trailed off, staring where Mack was pointing.

"I know you're like, brooding right now, but uh…" Mack trailed off. Both girls stared at the zombies flowing through the town.

"What the hell," was all Santana could say as fear went through her. Quickly, her mind sorted through people. Quinn was still in the hotel, or at least she hadn't left that'd Santana'd noticed. Brittany. Tiffany…Brittany and Tiffany were with Sam, Stevie, and Stacy at the town's tiny ass library for some kids thing the lady who was assisting the lady that had given them their room assignments had chirped about. Beth and Sarah were with Louise…somewhere. Maybe at the kids thing? Her mind quickly flashed through everyone, trying to pin point their locations, but she just kept coming back to Tiffany and Brittany. In the library.

Her hand ached for her baseball bat, or even better, Quinn's gun.

Mack stuffed her iPad and phone into her messenger bag, and slung it on, shoving it to her back and out of her way. She hefted her crowbar, and Santana felt a tiny bit of jealousy that the other girl had a weapon. Why hadn't Santana brought hers?

'Cause she thought they were safe in this dinky ass town.

What zombies weren't shambling through the streets were feasting on the unlucky people they had caught, or were pounding at doors and windows where they had seen people.

Bile rose up in Santana's throat as she realized they were seriously screwed.

Mack dropped her crowbar, and walked over to the paint cans and long handled paint rollers sitting in a corner. She broke one of the paint rollers where the wooden handle met the metal of the roller. She handed it to Santana, then broke another and shoved it through her messenger bag's straps.

Santana took it, and looked down at it dumbly.

"We can't exactly stay up here, can we? Just jab the pointy end in the zombie, Buffy," Mack said, and picked up her crowbar. She waited for Santana expectantly.

Santana's knee, by now, ached badly. She limped to stand next to Mack, careful to keep the pain from her knee to herself, just gritting her teeth. She needed to focus on the pain, instead of her fear. She twirled the handle, and took a deep breath. Like Coach Sue always said, "Fake it till you make it. "

"Buffy? Please. I'm a badass. So I'm _Faith_. What's the plan Xander?" Santana grinned at Mack.

"Did you just call me _Xander?_ Bitch, _I'm_ totally Faith!" Mack glared, but nodded back towards the zombies milling through the town, "We can argue about this later, right now we need to get to the motel."

Santana frowned, and stared at the library. There were half a dozen zombies pounding on the glass door and huge glass windows. "No," she snapped, "We're going to the library."

Mack rolled her eyes, "Go where you want, it's your funeral. I-"

"There are kids at the library with Sam and Brittany. Tiffany, Stevie, Stacy and probably _Beth_ and Sarah," Santana interrupted her, eyes narrowed.

"Library it is," Mack stated with a small huff, "It's closer anyway. Let's go before it gets worse."

* * *

Brittany flushed the toilet and left the bathroom stall. Lord Tubbington meowed at her, and she waved her fingers at him, double checked she had remembered to zip up her pants (she hadn't, so she gave him a 'thank you' pat), and called out, "How you doing Tiffany?" to her sister in the other stall while she washed and dried her hands.

"Fine! Well, need help with my buttons!" Came the tiny voice.

Brittany smiled, "You don't have to take off all your clothes when you use the bathroom you know?"

"I like too!"

Well, Brittany couldn't argue with that.

"I'm going to make sure the Story Lady still hasn't started yet Tiffany, Lord Tubbington will stay here with you okay?"

Her sister's voice wavered with fear a little, but she still bravely called out, "Okay. Be back soon _please._"

"I will, I promise. Remember Lord Tubbington's here!" she called out as she left the bathroom, and Lord Tubbington meowed. He was a good kitty. Maybe, with the stress, she should let him have one of the cigarettes he thought she didn't know about. She was still thinking about it when she made her way to Sam, who was sitting against a wall, a sibling under each arm as all three of them looked at a picture book.

He gave her a grin, and she managed to return it even though she didn't feel like grinning, not really.

Around them, seventeen children and three parents milled around. A grandmotherly woman manned the library's service desk. In the rest of the library separated from the children's section there were three adults. Two of which were Mrs. Schuster and her sister, who were boredly looking through magazines, and occasionally Mrs. Schue's sister would take a nip from a flask. Mrs. Schue's nephews were loudly running around the library. She averaged out 4 nips a minute. Mrs. Puckerman was talking avidly with a town lady, and Sarah was reading a book to Beth.

Brittany took a deep breath, and looked back at Sam.

"I know, it's so weird that it seems so normal after yesterday, doesn't it?" Sam muttered quietly to her, his siblings snuggling closer.

She forced another bright smile for Sam, and now the two children looking at her, "Lord Tubbington says that this is the clam before the storm. But I think it'll be fine."

"Clam? You sure he didn't mean calm?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm pretty sure he meant clam. He really likes seafood." Brittany answered, then looked back at the bathrooms, "I'll be back, Tiffany will be done by now. Maybe you guys want to see if Sarah and Beth want to move over next to us? We're in the best 'listening to a story' spot."

Stacy nodded, and wiggled out from next to her brother, and ran over to Sarah, only darting one glance at her brothers, and nearly running into the redheaded tornados as she did so.

Brittany headed back into the bathroom. She was helping her sister button her sweater when someone screamed. Scared, Brittany fumbled with the last few buttons, before turning warily back towards the exit of the bathroom, her sister hiding behind her legs.

Lord Tubbington darted to his feet, his ears perked, and his tail waving madly in the air.

Brittany opened the door, and let Lord Tubbington go out first, then they followed slowly behind him. Relief flooded through her when she saw Sam, his siblings, Sarah and Beth still huddled in the corner Sam had picked out earlier.

Lord Tubbington leading the way, the trio quickly went to stand next to them. Wide eyed, Brittany looked at Sam questioningly.

Sam licked his lips, "The Story Lady finally got here. But…" he nodded towards the group huddled near the library's entrance, including Mrs. Puckerman, "She's…" he looked down at the kids, "_hurt_," he finally said carefully.

Brittany frowned. "Tiffany, stay with Sam," and before Sam could protest, she was walking over to the adults huddled around the Story Lady. Most of the children were sitting down together, except the triplets who were running just as wildly as before. There were three children and one adult gone, and Brittany assumed that they'd left.

Mrs. Puckerman was busy using the library's first aid kit on the Story Lady. A pregnant woman who couldn't be that much older than Brittany who was wearing a bright yellow ruffled dress with a matching bonnet. The white haired librarian was sobbing quietly to herself. Mrs. Schuester was standing nearby, silently rubbing her pregnant belly, her back half turned to Mrs. Puckerman and the Story Lady. For a moment, Brittany wondered where Mrs. Schuester's sister had gone off too, but figured she couldn't be far. The other three adults were standing near Mrs. Puckerman, watching helplessly next to the door. One muttered they should go get a doctor. Another kept looking at the group of children with worry.

The Story Lady's bright yellow dress was marred with blood. Looking at the blood, then at the Story Lady's exposed bone jutting out of her arm, Brittany felt sick.

"There's…those things," one of the adults near door said, face going white. Dimly Brittany could hear gun fire.

Brittany stepped quickly, and peered through the tall glass doors. A zombie shambled into view. To Brittany's horror, more kept coming. So many the numbers weren't any help.

"We have to lock the doors!" Someone screamed. Children started crying. Brittany was frozen for a moment, before she leaned over the small end table next to the door, and threw up into the potted plant.

* * *

They stood at the window, frozen as they watched the zombies and people mingling together in screams, blood, gore and sheer terror. Quinn's hand was warm and comforting in Rachel's; easing her fears, mourning, and the sheer terror she'd felt the last twenty four hours better then even Finn's exuberant hugs had done so.

That thought broke her out of the fear induced shock as they stood at the window, and reluctantly, she let go of Quinn's hand. "Quinn, perhaps you should get some clothing on. I shall go see who among our group is still in the hotel."

Quinn half turned towards her, "Santana, and Britt…Brittany are here," before turning back to stare out the window. Quinn had gone pale, even her pink hair seemed more subdued.

Gently, Rachel guided her away and towards her belongings. Quinn dropped the towel, and robotically started rummaging for clothes and Rachel stared for a moment, before looking away, blushing. There was a pounding at the door, and gratefully, Rachel went to it, opening it enough that whoever it was would not see Quinn changing.

It was Mr. Schue, who appeared to have aged quite a bit since she last saw him, looked a little less peaky when he saw Rachel, "Rachel, thank goodness. Do you know where Finn is? Where _anyone_ else is?"

"Quinn is in here as well, I believe Brittany is in her room with Santana. As far as I know, Finn, Puck, and Jacob Ben Israel had joined some other boys in playing a game. I do not know where. Mike was meeting his mother at the restaurant. Tina is in her room. Sam, his siblings and Brittany's sister are at the library for a children's event. "

Mr. Schue ran a hand through his hair, and muttered, "Terri and Kendra were taking the boys there too…" and swallowed heavily.

"We should do _something_ Mr. Schuster, " Rachel said, worry creeping through her.

Mr. Schue sighed, "I'm going to go door to door and see who is here. I'll put together a group, get the doors blocked and we'll go from there. Rachel, you and Quinn sit tight, I'll handle this. I just wish we hadn't handed over our guns…Not that we had many...You just…you two just stay safe." He walked away without another word, worry and fear etched into him. Rachel opened her mouth, intent on informing him of their hidden weapons, but at the last second decided to stay silent without quite knowing why. Finn would say she was being silly, and Mr. Schue could do much more with the guns then she could. But Finn wasn't here, and Rachel highly doubted Quinn, once she snapped out of her current shock, would agree with Finn.

Rachel sighed, and nervously turned back, closing the door, to find Quinn -now fully dressed, back at the window. As Rachel stepped lightly towards her, Quinn turned to look at her, eyes wider in fear and shock.

"Santana, Mack," Quinn mumbled, looking back out the window. Rachel rushed towards the window, and watched in horror as she saw Mack and Santana were creeping from building to building, avoiding zombies but killing or incapacitating the ones that paid attention to them. At first Rachel could not understand why they were heading away from the motel; the most obviously safest place to go to, but realized they were going towards the library, and the children -Tiffany, and very likely Beth as well. The library had a large group of zombies surrounding it, pounding on the large glass windows and door, and Rachel felt a bit of bile come up as she thought about how many children were likely in there, just waiting to be feasted upon.

The screams from people running, from people bit and waiting to die, from people asking for help filled Rachel's ears, and tears pricked at her eyes as she watched Mack and Santana become surrounded by zombies. They were going to die, the children were going to die, they were all going to die.

Santana pointed at a vehicle, and Rachel wiped away her tears in relief as Santana and Mack went down and rolled under the truck, to the zombies confusion.

Quinn moved from the window, dragging the chair with her to the closet where she retrieved her pistol. She unwrapped it, and looked at Rachel with a wild, crazy look in her eyes.

"I'm going to help them, to save my daughter. I have to save them, I have to save her," Quinn said, her hands shaking as she started loading her pistol.

Rachel licked her lips, and spoke in what she hoped was a calm, even tone even though her heart was beating wildly and the surety that they were all going to die surrounded her from all sides, "Quinn, your pistol likely does not have the range to reach them. My rifle, however, does."

Rachel quickly stood up on the chair, and collected her rifle and bag from the top shelf in the closet. It was already loaded, and after making sure Quinn was not running off into a hoard of zombies in a foolish, deadly mission, she set it up and started firing at the zombies that surrounded the truck Mack and Santana were hiding under, and every third bullet she used to reduced the number of zombies around the library as well. At first, she missed more then she hit, so she stopped for a moment and took several deep breaths, attempting to calm and center herself. Her and her daddy had gone shooting every week in the summer since she could remember, to LeRoy's amusement. So she was not rusty in the skill, and was actually fairly good at it.

It was not easy; other people, the town's people, and perhaps even fellow travelers that were still in the streets were screaming, dying, running, asking for help, or hiding. Rachel tried to ignore them, even though the screams seemed to go through her, and fill her up.

She did spare one bullet for the forehead of a chubby red head that had zombies feasting on her, but only because the particularly loud screaming stood out from the other's, _distracting_ Rachel, and it seemed to be agitating Quinn to hear the redhead.

* * *

Santana swore to herself as she hit her shoulder painfully on the pavement, the gravel sticking all over into her skin like tiny zombie bites. Next to her, Mack rolled under the truck and next to her. Silently, both girls watched the zombies shamble around the spot they had just been standing in confusion.

Santana wondered if the zombies were smart enough to realize where they had gone, or what.

She hoped not.

They were already screwed enough without the zombies.

They had done a good job getting from the roof and had been almost to the library when they'd just been surrounded. It was a good thing some jerk had parked his truck in the no parking zone, otherwise they would have been dinner.

"What are we going to do?" Santana hissed to Mack as quietly as she could.

"Wait?" Mack answered so softly Santana barely heard her.

Waiting wasn't a bad idea, Santana admitted to herself. The only problem was that inside the library was a feast of small children, including Tiffany and Beth, and Sarah, and Stevie and Stacy. Brittany was there. Sure, Sam was there too, and probably some parents, but he was only one person, and he didn't have a gun or anything. None of them did.

Maybe if they ran out from under the back of the truck, and ran to the library. It had to have a back door or something.

Santana cursed her knee; she was only able to keep up with Mack by pushing herself, and she suspected Mack was being slower then she could.

A shot rang out, then another and another and another. One silenced a particularly loud redhead who was being feasted on. The rest were thinning out the zombies around the truck. And, Santana realized, around the library.

They might not die today, Santana thought with a grim smile.

There was a pounding at the door, before Rachel heard it open. She mentally filed away 'always lock doors' for next time, and kept shooting.

"You have a gun?!" a voice she did not recognize yelled behind them, and Rachel ignored them in favor of continuing to pick off the zombies to help Mack and Santana.

She heard a scuffle between whomever had said that, and Quinn. She was hit in the side as someone tripped into her, nearly causing her to take out an already cracked window in the library. Irritated, she turned to find a group in their room, with a sullen Quinn glaring at them.

Quinn had her pistol tucked away somewhere, and Rachel made another mental note to tell the girl good job for her quick thinking in hiding it.

"I need to go get my dad," One woman shouted.

Another person said, "My friends are out there?" with tears streaming down her face.

There were complaints Rachel had hidden her gun. One man tried to cajole Rachel that "Little girls shouldn't have such big guns, and should let the men handle them." Another person just wept.

Rachel clutched the rifle tightly to her person, and gave the group her fiercest glare, before reaching out and smashing a lamp off the nearby end table to the floor.

The loud crashing noise silenced the group.

"I would like you all to leave our room immediately," she said calmly, even though she was petrified on the inside.

"And if we don't, you gonna shoot us little girl?" One man said. It made Rachel shudder, reminding her of the man that had carjacked her and her dads, calling her lil' lady.

She took a deep breath, and said, trying to keep her voice even, "I am picking off zombies outside, giving whomever is out in the roads the best chance of survival. I am certain the people inside buildings are safe at the moment. I suggest you all busy yourselves with ensuring the first floor of the motel is secure. I will not be handing my weapon over to anyone, as I highly doubt any of you are retired military snipers or some such." She clutched her rifle closer to her, already itching to go back to shooting.

"The noise is making them come here!" One hysterical woman shouted angrily.

There was mutterings of agreement, and Rachel feared the crowd, at that moment, more than the zombies. She swallowed heavily, and tried to contain her shivering. For a moment, she had forgotten that people were dangerous.

"So go make sure the building is secure!" Quinn snapped, elbowing people out of her way to stand next to Rachel protectively.

The older man who called Rachel 'Little Girl' gave them a charming smile, "There's no need for the attitude, we're all concerned with what's happening, and for everyone not here."

"We shouldn't be, it's freaking zombies. Walking dead bodies. There's no way this won't be handled in a month, tops. The birds alone will take care of the majority of them..." One chubby man muttered loudly.

The older man nodded at the chubby man, "Maybe, but right now there's a shitload of them swarming through the streets. And you," he looked back at Rachel, "_Are_ drawing their attention. So stop shooting, and hand that over for me to hold onto, just in case they get into the motel here. I can keep us all safe."

The crowd around the older man had seemed to calm down at his words, and a few people had even meandered out of Quinn and Rachel's room.

Rachel wanted to trust him. She wanted to hand the rifle over, and trust in the man's words that he'll use it to protect them all if the time came. And she almost did, too. If it weren't for Quinn's still pale face, the fact that Mack and Santana were still stuck under the truck, the cracked window in the library where who knows how many children were stuck, including those she _knew._

If it wasn't for the man and his family carjacking them, even though they knew they were almost certainly signing the Berry's death warrants, Rachel would have certainly handed her rifle over to someone else.

People protect their own first, and Rachel Berry was not going to be an exception to that rule. Rules were meant to give order, that's why she'd always strived to follow them as best she could.

"I must now insist," she said with far more bravado then she was feeling, "that you exit our room immediately, and set about ensuring the motel's entrances are secure. The window's are high enough they should not be a concern."

She saw Mr. Schue pushing his way into the room Tina, and Blaine behind him, and took a deep breath, feeling a lot more comfortable knowing Quinn was not her only alley. Even if Mr. Schue was looking at her with disappointment.

* * *

Brittany held Beth, her sister holding her free hand, and Stacy holding her sister's other hand, and Sarah holding her hand. Stevie stood protectively in front of them, Lord Tubbington next to him. Brittany thought it was adorable of him, but ultimately useless.

As useless as Sam talking to the Liberian right now. Even if Sam could talk her and the other adults into evacuating them all through the emergency exit, given the amount of zombies they could see through the windows and door, there was no way there was safety that way. The Liberian was gently telling Sam they would wait to be rescued, and Brittany's stomach dropped.

There was a crack in the library's window, low enough that zombie fists could pound on it and eventually crack it, letting them come in.

Biting her lip, she looked around. The library was so small that she could see all of it from where she stood. There was a tiny office behind the service desk, and the bathrooms. A short stocky door with a sign that said "historical documents" on it. That was it. The rest of the library stood in front of her, open and airy, the sunshine shining through as cheerily as the Story Lady's dress must have been when she put it on earlier today.

The bookcases either went straight to the ceiling, or were too short. She darted a glance at the crack in the window, then at Sam fruitlessly arguing with the Librarian. She shifted Beth to her other side as Sam came back, a frown on his face.

"She's…" Sam sighed, "Mrs. Puckerman is busy with the Story Lady, but she was…" he darted a glance at the children surrounding Brittany, "hurt pretty bad." He looked around the library, seeing what Brittany had just looked at. "Maybe we could put some bookcases in front of the windows…"

Brittany shook her head, "They're bolted to the floor. And even if they weren't, the books would take too long to move." Brittany looked at the door that lead to the historical documents, and stepped quickly over to it, bringing the kids with her, Sam and Stevie trailing behind her.

She let go of her sister's hand (causing the younger girl to whimper), and pulled the door open. It creaked open loudly, and Brittany stepped lightly up the stairs, everyone following behind her.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, and several long minutes later finally lead to a large room that would be airy if not for the fact that it was stuffed with books, and a bit dusty. Lord Tubbington sneezed, and Brittany smiled. This was perfect. She set Beth down next to Sarah, (who immediately grabbed the toddlers hand), and turned back to Sam.

"All this dust can't be good for the baby, or Kyle's asthma," Mrs. Schuester muttered, gently pushing the redheaded boy towards a chair, where he sat down clutching an inhaler. Brittany was surprised, she hadn't even realized the woman and boy had followed them up. "But it's safer up here." Mrs. Schue continued, "Don't worry Kyle your mom and brothers will be up soon." Mrs. Schuester said perkily, then added under her breath, "If she isn't too drunk to corral them up here."

Brittany smiled, "And there's enough room for everyone while we wait to be rescued. Sam let's go get everyone else up here, Mrs. Schue why don't you stay with the kids?"

"It's Ms. Del Monico now, uh, I don't recall your name. But I definitely remember you, you poor thing," Mrs. Schuester said, giving Brittany a look of pity.

"It's Brittany. Brittany S. Pierce," Brittany grinned at Mrs. Schuester, "You remember me because my hair is so shiny right? I let Lord Tubbington lick it every night after I shower, everyone knows cat's have magic cleaning scrubbing brushes in their tongues."

Mrs. Schuester looked like she smelled something gross, "Uh, sure Brittany. That's why."

Brittany tossed her hair as she turned around back towards the door, "Be right back Tiffany, we have to go get the other kids and bring them up here so the monsters can't get them, okay?"

Solemnly, Tiffany nodded. Satisfied, Brittany lead Sam down the stairs. They'd get the kids, and everyone else and bring everyone upstairs where they'd be safe, and wait to be rescued. The king of this town had minions, and he'd assured them when they came in that he'd keep everyone safe.

They were barely out into the hallway when the sound of the crying and scared children downstairs stopped, and screaming took its place.

Scared, Brittany ran down the rest of the way to the door, Sam close behind.

It was chaos.

Tears fell from Brittany's eyes as she took in the scene before her. She'd been too late. The king was too late. No one was rescuing them. Not even Lord Tubbington.

The cracked window had broken, and zombies had streamed in. Mrs. Puckerman, the librarian, the story lady, the other adults, and the rest of the children?

The ones that were still alive were still screaming. Brittany wiped her eyes, and looked around. She'd save the ones she could! She would! She spotted a heavy looking lamp, and took a few steps from the door towards it.

A strong hand grabbed her wrist, "Brittany, we…they're all bitten, we have to go back up!" Sam said harshly.

Brittany couldn't think, couldn't speak, she just shook her head. No, she could help, she _could._ There had to be someone who could be saved.

Tear's fell freely from Sam's eyes, as he looked across the tiny library, "If there was any hope for any of them Brittany, " his voice wavered as he started pulling her back to the door, "I'd help them. I _swear_, but there _isn't._"

A chubby toddler not much more older then Beth hobbled towards them. Half the toddlers face was chewed off, her wool dress was covered in blood and black goo that leaked from her remaining eye. Her entire body was swollen in uneven areas. What skin that Brittany could see that wasn't covered in blood or goo was red. One shoe was missing, and the foot was bent at an awkward angle.

The toddler let out an unnaturally low moan that was almost a growl. The zombies around them seemed to notice Brittany and Sam in that instant.

As Sam pulled her through the door, before he slammed it shut, Brittany caught a glance at Mrs. Puckerman, who was staring at them hungrily from where she was bent over the body of the librarian, the Story Lady bent next to her gnawing on the old woman's leg. Her eyes were pools of black goo, streams of which were falling down her face and mingling with the fresh blood.

Brittany couldn't think as Sam spoke, leading her up the stairs and closing the door at the top of the stairs. Once they were inside, she sat down staring blankly at the door.

This was how they were going to die, Brittany realized as her sister burst into tears and flung herself next to her, now or eventually, they were going to die and turn into one of those things. She put an arm around her sister, and realized that her sister was never going to get to grow up. She wasn't going to find her own Santana, or be in glee club, or get to do anything awesome. Brittany started sobbing.

They were all going to die.

It was just a matter of _when._

* * *

The zombies dropped to the ground around the truck, the sound of the gun firing echoing through Santana's bones. It was comforting; it meant there was a hell's chance they'd get out of this alive.

Still, Santana couldn't stop the violent shivering from fear her body was doing, even though she grit her teeth and tried to control it. Next to her, the Mack was frozen.

Then the gun fire stopped.

Santana cursed.

Maybe enough zombies had been shot that they wouldn't die as soon as they ran out from under the truck. _Maybe._

She was gearing up to whisper to Mack that they should make a run for it, when Mack's frozen form tensed next to her. Straining, Santana turned and looked, then cursed again as she saw the zombie limply crawling under the truck towards them. They had to leave now, there was no way they'd be able to kill it from under the truck.

"Now or never Mack," she muttered.

"Right," Mack took a deep breath, "You go first, I got your back."

"No, _you_ go first, _I_ got your back," Santana snapped.

"You're injured. And you just have a stake. _I've_ got a crowbar, " Mack snapped back.

Grumbling, Santana knew they were wasting time, so she just said, "Fine."

She didn't need to see Mack's face to know the other girl was smirking as she said, "On three. One. Two. _Three._"

'Three' was barely out of Mack's mouth before Santana crawled out from underneath the truck, and, stumbled, then started running towards the library. Mack was seconds behind her.

A lot of the zombies were heading towards the hotel, and that was the only reason, Santana was pretty sure, they weren't lunch.

Her steps faltered, as halfway to the library she watched the glass crack, then crash to the ground with a loud noise, and zombies start pouring into the library. She stood, frozen, before Mack ran to her, grabbed her free hand, and pulled her towards the library. Santana pushed herself, hard. If they got there soon enough, they could help, they _could._ Brittany would be okay. She was too sweet, too innocent to die.

They shoved their way through the libraries doors, bashing and stacking and doing what they could to get into the place.

It had taken too long to get to the library, to get inside. They had had to constantly stop and fight, and Santana's knee was so bad, swollen and so painful, that she was slow no matter how hard she was pushing herself.

They were too late, Santana looked at Louise Puckerman, and realized, a cold feeling going through her. They were too late. _She_ was too late to save Brittany, or Tiffany or _anyone._

Louise Puckerman had never liked Santana. Most of the time, Santana was sure she didn't like Puck much either; he looked too much like his crappy dad, or maybe their personalities were too alike for Louise. Whatever. Santana thought it was shitty of Puck's mom, so Santana really never tried to make Louise like her. In fact, usually Santana would go out of her way to annoy the older woman.

Even Santana had to admit that Louise was treating Puck a lot nicer now that he had proven himself to her or whatever her messed up reasoning was.

"This was going to crush him", a tiny voice inside of Santana pointed out, even as the rest of her was as cold and icy as winter snow.

She stood frozen for a moment, before the walking corpse of Louise Puckerman lunged towards her, a pregnant zombie in a too bright yellow dress following her. Behind them, a horrible surge of zombies followed, most of them children.

Later, she'd swear there was a glimmer of recognition, and of dislike, in the dead eyes of Puck's mother, which was what made the corpse go towards her and not Mack.

* * *

"Alright, so we've secured the first floor, " Mr. Schuester's voice rang out loud and clear in the hotels tiny gym slash laundry area, where they had pushed things against the wall to make room for the hotels current inhabitants to gather, "All we can do now is wait."

Rachel wanted to scream. Mr. Schue had lectured her, and made her hand her rifle over to one of the men, who was holding it now as Mr. Schue spoke, all puffed up and proud like…like _Jesse St. James,_ Rachel thought viciously, darting a glare at the man. Next to her, Quinn was tense. At least, should anything happen, Quinn still had her gun hidden away from Mr. Schue, who would no doubt hand it over to some stranger to keep the wee little children safe. Some _male_ stranger. No one had thought to ask for extra ammo, so the bag was still sitting in the room. She'd put a pillow on top of it, as if that would keep anyone from wondering about her ammo and taking it from her.

He'd ignored her protests that she knew how to use it, it was _hers_, and it was foolish to allow a person they didn't know to have control of it.

Rachel had never been so disappointed in a person before. Even including the time Finn keep calling her Papa Hiram, and her Daddy LeRoy for three days before she'd finally broken down and corrected him. She'd apologized later to him for yelling, and calling him all those names. It hadn't been his fault he was a teenage boy.

She blinked back tears at the thought of Finn. Now was not the time for tears. And certainly not tears at the thought of him being dead or hurt or worse, which would be acceptable. No, these tears were for her; she did not have it in her to mourn for more than her father's right now. Which was horrible, and selfish of her, she would admit. Her father's deaths were thunderstorms over her, and the sun had yet to shine through. Perhaps it never would.

"Wait?" Quinn finally spoke up, quietly saying, "My baby is out there. My _daughter_. Not to mention Brittany and Tif-"

Mr. Schue sighed, "There are a lot of people out there Quinn. It's simply too dangerous to try to help any of them right now."

Quinn scowled at him, glaring. Rachel watched Quinn's fingers twitch, and Rachel had the horrible thought that Quinn was seconds away from pulling her gun out, pointing it at Mr. Schue, and demanding to be allowed outside to go save Beth and Brittany and her sister. She pushed that away as silly; Quinn may have had her issues this year, and the zombies certainly could not have helped, but Quinn would not go so far as to point a gun at someone.

She put a hand on Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn stilled, let out a deep breath, and quieted down. She was still glaring at Mr. Schue, but Rachel felt like it was a win.

Then a woman a few people away from Quinn and Rachel gave a short, bitter laugh, and said, "Maybe _your_ baby should have been with_ you._ Your daughter is ripped to shreds by now. All the kids in the library are, " The woman wiped away tears with short jerky movements, and glared out the window towards the library, where zombies with fresh blood on their faces were meandering around the outside.

Quinn turned towards the woman quickly, and gave a short almost inhumane noise before she slapped her. And kept slapping her, until finally it was Rachel that stopped her. Everyone else had been shocked into silence.

The woman slid to the ground, muttering, "I shouldn't have sent them alone. I should have gone with them, I thought it was safe…they said it was safe," then starting to sob loud and nosily, her pain fresh and the wound obvious to everyone crammed in the room. Not, Rachel knew, from where Quinn had slapped her, even though both cheeks had red hand prints on them and looked painful.

"I'm taking Quinn to our room," She announced before anyone could say anything, and quickly lead Quinn out, pushing past people, and in one case elbowing a man harshly when he would not step aside and let them through. She heard someone attempt to get things in order by suggesting they call other places in town, if the phones were working, and see who else was alive.

* * *

Rachel lead her with a surprisingly strong grip. Quinn's hand stung, but she barely noticed.

The library was over run. Brittany was dead. Tiffany was dead. Sam and his siblings.

_Beth._

**Beth was dead.**

She'd failed to protect her child. She'd just given her to Louise after a single day, tired and telling herself she'd do better tomorrow.

There wasn't going to be a tomorrow for Beth.

Numbly, Quinn allowed Rachel to guide her to the one chair in their room. She looked at Beth's pile of things stupidly.

Beth was dead. Torn apart and feasted upon. Or maybe it was just a nip, and now her baby was toddling around trying to eat people.

She pulled the gun from where it'd was stashed under her jacket. She had to get outside, and go find her baby, and stop her from trying to eat people. It was the least she could do for her daughter, she had failed her in every other way. This was all Quinn could do for her now.

Shakily, she stood up and stumbled to the door, gun clutched limply in her hand.

"Quinn," Rachel said quietly, gently taking the gun from her hands, "I will not pretend to understand what you are going through right now, but going out there is not the correct choice."

Quinn hated her right now. Hated her for being here instead of Beth, for being safe with Quinn in the hotel, for not grabbing her rifle and running out of the hotel.

Hated her for being the one Quinn wanted.

Hated her for being a girl.

Hated her for being with Finn and not Quinn.

She leaned forward and kissed Rachel harshly, shoving her against the wall and knocking the ugly hotel painting askew. This was crazy, this was stupid, and Quinn was only giving into this because she wanted to punish herself for failing Beth.

She expected to be shoved away. She expected, maybe even hoped, that maybe Rachel would be so shocked and upset the shorter girl would turn the gun onto her.

Rachel kissed her back.

After what felt like an eternity to Quinn, but what had probably in reality been a minute, Rachel pulled away. She stared wide eyed at Quinn, in shock. Quinn tried not to feel satisfaction at ruffling Rachel's calmness, even as her disappointment that Rachel hadn't wildly turned the gun on Quinn.

Without a word, Quinn shoved past Rachel, and had her hand on the doorknob to leave when Rachel gripped her wrist, and pulled her back.

"You can't just…kiss me then walk away Quinn!"

Quinn turned to Rachel. Rachel stood in front of her, hair tussled, cheeks flushed, glaring at Quinn.

Quinn was sure she never looked more beautiful, and it helped the empty sadness that was going through Quinn just a tiny bit.

"You…I understand you are upset and not thinking clearly Quinn, so I suggest we just forget this ever happened. A lapse of judgment-"

Quinn interrupted her, "No," she said flatly, even as the knot of panic started to coil up in her stomach, "I want you to remember this. Remember that kiss next time Finn slobbers all over you, I meant it, Rachel. God," she looked away from Rachel's shocked face, and started at the ugly hotel painting, "I shouldn't…" she murmured.

"Quinn…I…I love Finn. He has his faults, of course, but…"

"I know Rachel, God do I know," Quinn said bitterly.

"If," Rachel said carefully, staring at Quinn soulfully, "Finn and I weren't together, I would certainly consider a..a relationship with you Quinn, I think, despite our history. I have given thought to being in a relationship with another woman before, and have actually made a pro/cons list of the girls of New Directions on who would be better suited as a girlfriend (and I cannot believe I just admitted that to you)...but as I said, I love Finn." Rachel took a deep breath, "I…suddenly your behavior towards me over the years has made a lot more sense, Quinn. Especially that crude drawing you did. Well, the hearts anyway. And the pornographic drawings you did in the school's restroom as well."

Quinn looked away. If Rachel wasn't going to yell or scream or treat her like the godless freak Quinn knew she was, she'd just have to try harder.

"I lied Rachel. I killed Shelby, I murdered her. I was just so worried about Beth I went to her condo to check on them. I tried to convince her to come with us to the cabin, that'd it'd be safer. She wouldn't…she wouldn't even listen to me." The words came out in a rush, and Quinn didn't let herself think about consequences, "So I killed her. What that gun." Quinn nodded at it, feeling bile at admitting what she had done rise in her throat. She had murdered a woman, and it didn't _matter_, Beth was still dead.

"Quinn?"

"I shot her…I...I _killed_ her. So I could take Beth where it'd be safe. I shouldn't have given Beth to her in the first place, -I" Quinn looked away from Rachel. Rachel gasped, and stepped back, "And it didn't matter. Beth's dead." She finished flatly.

They stood in silence for several minutes. Finally, Rachel said, "I forgive you Quinn."

"Really?" Quinn asked in a small voice, hatred for herself flowing through her.

"Yes. Given your change of personality this summer, quitting Glee, your new friends…The shock of Shelby returning to Lima, and then zombies…your parents dying…I do not believe you were in a well state of mind, and your actions reflected that."

"I..I don't know what to say Rachel."

"I suggest we do not tell the others."

"Rachel, I…why aren't you more upset?"

"I have lost both my fathers. In light of that, the loss of Shelby, who I never really had, is not nearly as big of a deal. The fact that you killed her…I will need some time, perhaps, to reign in the shock of you being capable, of _anyone_ I know being capable, of killing another person….but you've always been cut-throat, and I can see you killing somebody to protect someone you love. And at the moment, you thought you needed to do so to protect your daughter. Given what happened with Daddy, perhaps that not such a bad attitude to have in this world. "

"What happened with your other dad Rachel?"

Rachel looked at Quinn seriously, took a deep breath and said, "We were…car jacked. Their car had broken down, and those…zees were all around. Everything was as fine as it could be considering, until the man's son…just a boy…he couldn't have been older then thirteen, saw Daddy's wrist bandaged, and thought he was bit. The boy shot him. He bled out quickly…we had to leave his body there. If I had been stronger, if I had been…you wouldn't have let that happen Quinn."

"I'm not a super hero, Rachel. I'm barely keeping myself together. But now Beth's…de..dead, and…there's just no point anymore." Quinn couldn't stop her eyes from lingering on the gun still in Rachel's hand.

"Quinn…" Rachel said softly. She stepped lightly, Quinn's eyes following her the whole way, and put the gun in one of the dresser drawers, then returned to Quinn. Gently, she took Quinn into her arms.

Quinn allowed herself to enjoy being held by Rachel for only a moment. Then she pulled away. She didn't deserve to be held by Rachel. She didn't deserve comfort.

"I cannot pretend to know what you are going through Quinn, but we must keep on living, and-" Rachel gently reached out and touched Quinn's hand, "We must go forward. I am quite certain that my dreams of Broadway are as dead as my dads, but a small part of me is holding out hope that there's a chance…Which is foolish, I am aware."

Quinn wanted to speak, she wanted to pull Rachel into her arms, and say something comforting, that would make all this, make _everything_, okay.

She stayed silent.

Rachel gave her a sad look, and continued, "It is sad, I think, when you grow out of your dreams. And sadder when you are forced by circumstance to grow out of them. But I can find a new dream. With…" Rachel looked at Quinn hesitantly, then finally said, "With Finn. My father made me swear I would die surrounded by family, so perhaps my new dream will be having Finn Hudson's children…and them living to adulthood. I suppose it was immature and stupid of me to insist we wait until I was twenty five..."

Quinn flinched.

Rachel looked aghast, "Oh Quinn, I am so _so_ sorry, I did not mean…" Rachel looked at Quinn through her lashes, tears pooling in her eyes. Quinn didn't know what Rachel was sorry about, Beth or Finn. And it didn't matter.

She pulled her hand from Rachel's, and glared. "Just leave me alone, " She spat out, then added, "Getting pregnant now would be stupid. Getting pregnant by Finn Hudson would be…you'd be better off throwing yourself at a hoard of zombies. "

Rachel wiped at her eyes, "I _love_ him Quinn. And I know you are upset, so I am going to forgive you your harsh words."

Rachel started going towards Quinn like she was trying to comfort her again, so Quinn stood up, and went to the window.

She couldn't see anyone living around the library, and had no idea if The Mack or Santana were alive any more.

Her friends were dead. Her baby was dead. Rachel Berry was in love with Finn.

Maybe _she_ would be the one better off throwing herself to the zombies.

* * *

Louise Puckerman's corpse lead the pack of zombies surging towards them, staring at Santana with a hungry look in her dead eyes. There were way way too many half eaten children and toddlers in the hoard, and it made Santana want to scream while throwing up.

She spared a moment to dart a glance at Mack, who was staring at a zombie that had, just a few hours ago, been a little boy around Beth's age...Santana guessed. She wasn't good at telling how old kids are, and it was way harder when the freaking kid had most of the flesh missing from his arms and a chunk out of his neck and a really hungry look on his face.

"Mack!" She shouted, even as she started veering towards the group of doors.

Mack seemed frozen, staring wide eyed at the little boy.

Santana jammed an elbow into Mack's side, then grabbed the other girls wrist with her free hand, pulling her.

Santana was tired. Her knee was killing her faster than the zombies would. A deep feeling of loss was surging through her, and knowing that Brittany, Beth, Sarah, Tiffany, the Evan's were all dead made her just want to stand there and let Louise Puckerman eat her.

So she pushed herself. Hard. Harder then she had even done before, pulling a frozen Mack along with her.

So she couldn't really even blame herself when the tears started streaming down her face.

She shoved the door open, and regardless of what might be waiting in there, threw herself in, pulling Mack with her. She shoved the door closed, and locked it, not quite believing that that had worked, that they were alive.

There was a heavy looking desk in the office, and she tried to move it herself, and it didn't budge. "Mack," she snarled.

Silently, Mack helped her push it against the door.

Santana could hear the scratching and growling behind the door. Gritting her teeth, she wiped away the tears and looked around. The office was small, and had those high up windows that opened at an angle instead of up or down. If they would get up there, there was a chance they would live to see tomorrow.

There was a heavy as hell looking bookcase that gave Santana a little hope, even as a tiny voice was whispering to her "There's no point, Brittany is dead…"

Santana was staring intently at the bookcase, trying to think of the best way they could move it, quickly, when Mack finally spoke.

"Santana, I think there's someone in there," She murmured quietly, nodding towards the closet.

Santana listened, and ignoring the sounds coming from the office door (which was hard as hell, as they were loud, hungry sounds,) realized that there was definitely noised coming from the closet.

"Might be a scared kid," Santana muttered. A little surge of hope went through her. Maybe someone would come out of the library alive. Maybe it was Brittany. Brittany and Tiffany.

She limped forward, and pulled the door open.

Kendra, fresh blood flowing down her face, leapt out of the closet onto Santana. The woman's dead weight knocked Santana to the ground. Santana used one arm to keep the woman's teeth from making contract with her flesh, while with her other hand she struggled to find her stake.

She didn't even have time to wonder where the hell Mack was, before sounds around the room signified that Mack had her own zombie to deal with right now.

Santana cursed. Kendra must have hid in here with her sons.

Santana shoved at Kendra, scrambling desperately with her free hand to find her stake.

It would be so easy to just let Kendra bite her.

She shoved at Kendra again, this time using her knees. Barely wincing at the sharp pain that went through her bad knee, she rolled to her side.

It was the opposite side of where her stake had landed.

Cursing loudly, she glanced at Mack, who was fighting off a red-haired boy zombie, grotesque in death and hungry. Then at the office door, which, she realized, was starting to splinter.

She scrambled away from Kendra towards the bookcase, panic making her head there, even though it was on the opposite wall from the windows. It needed to be moved, the zombies in the room needed to be taken care of before the zombies outside the room burst in here and ate them.

Kendra stalked towards her, dripping black goo onto the floor. Santana shoved the rolling office chair at her, which confused the zombie enough that Santana kept pushing it, making the zombie woman back up.

Back towards the closet. Grinning savagely, Santana used every inch of strength to shove the woman backwards, into the open closet doors. Santana barely had time to see a small pale freckled hand on the floor of the closet, surrounded by a puddle of blood, as she shoved the chair away and slammed the closet door shut.

One of them turned, bit the other, and together they ate the other two kids, Santana realized dimly as she braced the chair against the closet door.

Weakly, Santana picked up a heavy looking bust from the bookcase, limped towards where Mack was still fighting off the red haired zombie, and brought it down on his head. It was enough to give Mack the chance to finally put the zombie down for good.

For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, before looking back at the door.

"Shit." Mack said.

"We just need to move the bookcase, come on," Santana hissed, and limped back to the bookcase, started shoving the books and knickknacks off. Silently, Mack joined her. Every second they spent was another second closer to the hoard of zombies coming inside. It felt like it took forever to get the bookcase clear.

They both got on one side, and shoved. Santana was running on fumes; she hurt everywhere, it seemed like, and her knee felt like it was giving birth to an eight pound baby of pain. She was so tired. Mack seemed to have a little more energy than Santana.

Inch by inch, they shoved the bookcase towards the windows.

Finally, it was close enough.

Santana stared, a little daunted at the bookcase.

"Come on," Mack snapped, putting her hands together, "You first."

"No, you first," Santana said.

She wasn't sure she could make it, and it'd be really crappy if after all this, neither of them made it out alive. One was better than none.

"Santana you're wasting time. You look like you're about to curl up and take a nap right there," Mack glared, "So shut up, and let me help you up there, so I can climb my ass up after you and maybe we won't _die._ "

Santana glared back, but limped weakly towards Mack, "Interlock your fingers together, it'll be more sturdy." She grumbled to Mack.

"Learn that from cheerleading, eh?" Mack grinned tiredly, as she did so.

Santana just rolled her eyes, then put her foot from her good leg up in Mack's hands, and grabbed at the shelves with her hands. Somehow, with Mack's assistance, Santana found the strength to get to the top of the bookcase.

Mack started to pull herself up, but tiredly fell backwards, and stared at Santana dazed. The desk was starting to shift inch by inch, and Santana realized they had a minute, tops.

"Bitch, don't tell me that I can get up here and you can't," Santana snapped, trying to control the edge of panic in her tone.

"Used my strength helping your fat ass up," Mack said. But she still stood up, and tried again.

"My ass is amazing, you could bounce a quarter off it," Santana said, tugging on the curtain sashes that uselessly decorated the top of the windows. There were blinds, and they were high as hell, so there was no point to the sash. Santana savagely ripped them away, and carefully tied them together. Then tied one end to the rain gutter downspout that was just outside the window. It took precious seconds, too long, Santana's fingers felt thick and useless.

Finally, she tossed the gauzy makeshift rope down to the Mack.

"That'll help you. Is has too," Santana stated. Swallowing, she added, "If anyone's ass is fat, it's yours. The end of the world happened because you refused a piece of cake. Hell froze over, too."

Mack gazed levelly at Santana, then grabbed the sash with one hand, and the highest shelf she could reach with the other. Stepping on a stack of books, she managed to pull herself up onto the book case. When she was in reach, Santana reached down and helped pull her up.

Both girls sat on top of the book case for a moment. Santana felt zapped. She didn't know where they were going to go, or just how Santana was going to find the energy to get there.

The door finally gave, and the desk was shoved over as zombies flooded into the room.

"A quarter? More like Quarter Pounder, Jlo would cry if she saw your butt," Mack stated as they both watched the zombies reach useless up at them.

"Jlo's probably shambling around trying to eat brains," Santana snipped, pulling the curtain rope up, and out the window.

It was a twelve food drop, at least, and while there were less zombies in the back of the library, there were still some milling around.

Santana didn't even know if the curtain sash would hold long enough for them to get safely down. But, they didn't really have a choice. They couldn't stay on top of the bookcase forever. "Santana, you go first," Mack whispered, "It'll probably hold for you, if it'll break it should be with me."

"Because of your fat ass," Santana whispered back. She stuck her head out the window. She stared at the ground, and shivered; from the wind, from shock, who the hell knew.

She wondered if there was an afterlife. If Brittany would be there greeting her with a smile.

"Santana?" A voice from above said. For a second, she thought it was God. Then realized it was Sam.

"Sam?!" She asked, not able to keep the pure happiness from her voice as she looked up to see the blonde boy poking his head out the window above her.

"Santana what are you doing here?" Sam asked like he wasn't quite sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Mack and me…all those kids. You, Brittany, your siblings. We had to try…" Santana said bitterly, "We failed, but we had to try. "

"Well, we're up here. Well, just_ us_, not... Even Lord Tubbington is...Is it safe down there?"

"Safe? Trouty mouth, I'm surprised we made it this far, those things are in the room and it's only luck we got up on this bookcase to the window."

"Uh, hold on, we're going to lower some rope down to you guys okay?"

Santana wasn't sure, but once Sam had lowered the "rope" (which turned out to be several fancy looking tasseled curtain ties tied together and dusty as hell) she wondered if she hadn't died after all, and this was heaven. A fucked up heaven where the world was still ending, but_ Brittany was alive._

She didn't know how either of them found the strength to climb up the ties.

She crawled through the open window, and stepped aside to let the Mack through. Brittany was curled up with Tiffany, Lord Tubbington next to them.

Santana felt herself fall forward, every ounce of strength zapped. Sam caught her, and lowered her down to the ground next to Brittany.

"Britts," she whispered.

Brittany looked up, her eyes red and a little swollen.

"San?" the blonde girl asked softly.

"Are you and Tiffany okay?"

Brittany nodded, then looked down, "But the other children, everyone who isn't in here, there all dead aren't they?"

Santana sighed, "Yeah Britts, they are. Dead and hungry."

"Even Puck's mom?"

"Yeah."

"At least Sarah and Beth are okay. I think Quinn would have been too sad about Beth. But I wish we could have saved more…saved anyone," Brittany scooted closer to Santana, and wrapped an arm around her. Santana was now pretty sure she'd actually died and this was her screwed up heaven.

Santana pulled them all, both Brittany and Tiffany and even Lord Tubbington closer.

"Santana," Brittany whispered.

Santana nuzzled her. Brittany smelled like sunshine, fresh cut grass, sugar cookies and just pure happiness.

"Thank you for trying," Brittany trailed her freehand down to Santana's bad knee, now noticeably swollen even though Santana's pants. Santana winced when Brittany's hand lightly touched it. "Oh Santana, your _knee._"

"Hurts like a bitch giving birth to more bitches, but it was worth it. Every second, just to find you two, Sam…Beth…Stevie…Stacy…_Sarah,_" Santana muttered, closing her eyes and putting her head on Brittany's shoulder. She just needed to rest them for a moment, even with all the pain she was in, she was so tired. She just needed to rest her eyes for a minute.

Mrs. Schuester's heavy sobbing, along with her nephews quieter wheezy crying filled Santana's ears as she drifted off, giving into exhaustion.

* * *

Quinn had murdered Shelby.

And Rachel had _forgiven_ her for it.

Rachel's mind raced as she watched Quinn look out the window, the blonde and pink haired girl was staring sullenly at the library where her daughter was likely dead at.

Rachel swallowed, and wiped away her tears that had fallen without her realizing it.

She was an awful person; she was shedding tears for Quinn, for _Beth,_ but had simply forgiven Quinn for Shelby's death.

_Murder._

What she kept telling people, what she kept insisting, what she kept telling herself was true.

Compared to her dads deaths, Shelby's was simply extraneous. Sad, yes. But Rachel had mourned Shelby already; after Shelby told her Rachel wasn't what she expected, that Rachel didn't need a mother.

Shelby had just been another victim of the zombies. One of thousands. Millions. Hundreds of millions.

Learning that Quinn had, in actuality, murdered her…had not changed anything, not really.

Well.

That wasn't quite true.

If Rachel hadn't learned, given what had happened to her Daddy, that people can be unpredictable, and even dangerous, when scared or trying to protect their own, then learning that Quinn had _murdered_ Shelby to take Beth with them to the cabin had certainly cemented that point home.

And perhaps Rachel would be a bit more cautious around Quinn. Around everyone that wasn't Finn, even. Because the Glee club had certainly ran hot and cold with her before, and while she wouldn't imagine that they would just coldly kill her in cold blood because they needed food, or just disliked her, even after all this time of being in glee together.

Of course, she could just be dramatic and Quinn's actions had been a result of stress and change and shock, and Rachel had nothing to fear from anyone.

Maybe.

She longed to discuss this with Finn, but she would not violate Quinn's trust. It was unlikely that he wouldn't tell Puck, or Mr. Schue, and from them, everyone would shortly know.

Rachel had no idea how they would react. Likely they would kick Quinn out, or drop her off at the nearest form of government for jail.

She looked back at Quinn, and sighed.

She owed Quinn nothing, but they needed to stick together. They all did.

And well, if a part of her, while still in disbelief that Quinn had simply murdered Shelby was intrigued by Quinn's admission of feelings for Rachel, by that kiss…well, that was a secret Rachel would certainly be keeping as well.

She had Finn. And she loved him. If he was still alive. And if he was dead, well, he was all she had now, and Rachel did not know what she would do.

Time passed in silence. Rachel didn't know what to do with herself, there was nothing to do but wait and worry.

She packed up her belongings into a tidy pile to take to a vehicle, if they got the chance. She packed up Quinn's things as well; tentatively at first, but when Quinn continued to ignore her, she grew braver. Brave enough to pack up Beth's things as well.

Then she moved to a new room. Brittany and her sister's things. Mack's was of course still unpacked, but there was still Tina, Santana and Kurt.

Tina was crying to herself on the bed when Rachel invaded the room, and ignored Rachel's attempts at speaking to her. Rachel was annoyed for half a second, before she realized that Mike and his Mother had been in the restaurant, and were quite likely dead. So she simply pulled the floral comforter up over the sobbing girl, and continued in her quest. One mostly for lack of better to do, she knew.

It was quite possible most of them were dead.

Or that they weren't getting out of this hotel.

She knocked quietly on the door to Blaine, Mike, Sam and Finn's room. It took a moment, but very sad looking Blaine eventually opened the door.

"Blaine, I believe that we should be doing something productive with our time, both for moral and for productivity. When we leave this area it would be ideal to be quick, so with that in mind I have been entering rooms and repacking any unpacked belongings, and placing them by the door for quick access." Rachel said smoothly as she stepped in without being invited.

Blaine smiled softly at her, "I pretty much already packed up everything in here Rachel. I needed something to do too."

"Oh." She smiled at him. Blaine was amazing, and Kurt was lucky to have him. Kurt.

"Is Kurt…I mean, is he...around?" She said carefully.

Blaine shook his head, "Finn talked him into going with him. Brotherly bonding. Said I couldn't go, no girlfriends allowed even if it was 'dudefriends'. "

"I apologize for Finn, sometimes he does not think how his words will affect people. I trait I am afraid we both share."

Blaine shrugged, "It's alright. I didn't really want to go play that game…Kurt didn't either, actually. But Burt and Carole told them to stick close to each other, so…"

"Where are your…parents?"

Blaine looked at the wall. "My Dad and Step-Mom are around here somewhere. Blossom's still getting used to taking care of Dahlia without a nanny, so she didn't take her to…to the library. Thank goodness. Mom's off in Canada somewhere with bad phone reception."

"What about…I recall Kurt mentioned you had a brother as well?"

"Cooper. He's in California. I hope he's safe."

"I hope so as well Blaine. It's quite likely he is, this could easily be something that's only happening on the east coast."

"I…I don't think you're right, Rachel. But thank you for saying it anyway."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Rachel berating herself for being insensitive. This was why she had no friends. This was why- She stopped, and cocked her head to the side.

Blaine heard it too, whatever it was. He went to the window. Rachel quickly stood next to him as he pried the window up. The cold autumn air rushed in along with the noise that was otherwise too faint to hear.

A torrent of gun fire. Gun fire that was getting louder. Closer.

* * *

At first, Quinn couldn't believe her eyes; the army was strolling through town, shooting every zombie in sight.

Surprise lead to anger; why hadn't they arrived in time to save her baby? Save her like Quinn hadn't?

She glared down at the uniformed figures, and realized that they weren't the army. Just some guys that had looted the local Army Surplus store. That was more then made clear when she realized that Puck, Finn, and Kurt and a bunch of other teenagers were milling through the men, bringing ammo or water to whoever took a second to flag them down.

Anger pulsed through her. Even from here, from this distance, she could see that Puck and Finn…they looked scared, yeah. But mostly they looked excited, like this was the absolute coolest thing _ever._

She clinched her fists.

It didn't take them long to clear the streets.

Even then, Quinn was still so angry. Pissed off at Puck for enjoying the experience like it was the world's most fucked up summer camp.

Pissed off at herself for failing her daughter so badly.

Pissed off at Finn Hudson for existing.

So when one of the cameo covered armed men came into the hotel, and demanded they all come outside to speak to the mayor, her blood was boiling by the time she stood with the other hotel residents in the parking lot.

The mayor stood in front a shiny white Cadillac.

"You people," he spat once everyone had gathered, "You people are the reason we lost so many today! So many_ children!_"

There was shouting behind and around Quinn.

The mayor raised his hand, and finally spoke again once the crowd had quieted down, "It was a mistake taking in nonresidents, a mistake that cost us so much. It will not be made again. So you have two hours to get your things together, and leave. We'll make sure you all have enough gas and food for a few days, but don't expect anything more than that."

"What about our weapons!" Someone shouted, and there was a murmur of agreement.

The mayor frowned, "I suppose we can't send you out with nothing," he finally ceded.

Rachel stood next to Blaine, and Quinn watched her frown, then step towards the man who Mr. Schue had given her rifle to.

"I believe you have my rifle, and I will be needing it back right now, thank you," Rachel said brightly, and loudly enough that everyone could hear her.

The man grinned at Rachel, and if Quinn's blood wasn't boiling already, it would have been when the man answered Rachel.

"Well little lady, I don't know if it's safe for you to have this. Why don't I keep it, and protect us all with it," He looked around, and Quinn could see that the crowd was on his side. Maybe it was that Rachel was a girl. Maybe her age. Or maybe they just didn't like Rachel's face.

"I'm afraid that's unacceptable, " Rachel replied. Quinn could hear the taught stress and waver of fear in her voice, but she doubted anyone else could. Rachel was a great actress. "We will not see each other after we leave this town, and I am perfectly capable of protecting myself with _my_ rifle."

"Give the girl back her gun," The mayor said, "Clock's ticking."

The man handed Rachel her rifle back, his hand lingering on it longer then Quinn liked. Rachel must have sensed it to, because she quickly pulled it closer to herself, turned around, and disappeared into the crowd back towards the hotel, the man staring harshly after her.

Quinn wanted to punch him. She took a step forward, to do just that, when a voice behind her said, "Quinn?"

She turned around and stood in shock. Puck was holding Beth, Sarah next to him. Next to her, a tired looking Santana leaned against Brittany, who was holding Tiffany's hand. Mack was holding Tiffany's other hand. Sam. Stevie, Stacy.

They were alive.

Tears leapt to Quinn's eyes.

She rushed towards Puck, and ripped her daughter from his arms, sobbing quietly into the toddlers hair. She'd never let Beth out of her sight again. She'd protect her daughter, she_ would._

Mack smiled tiredly at her, then muttered, "You really _are_ a lucky bitch. Come on, let's get our crap and leave before the towns people turn cannibal or something."


	8. Walk this World

It didn't take long at all to gather their things, and get in their cars and leave, a collection of town residents watching them all with wary eyes.

They drove.

A shaken, pale Burt had informed them, the first time they dared get off the road at a rest stop that looked like it had been neglected long before the end of the world, that they'd have to stop to get gas eventually, and they'd take an occasional bathroom break, but they'd drive as much as possible and get to the cabin some time tonight.

No one voiced that they'd rather stop for the night, rest, and get some sleep. Maybe try to get to a store to replace lost belongings. Everyone just quietly nodded, and even quieter made plans to switch out driver's, feed children, or change dirty diapers in laps or seats. Even the kids were all quiet; the littler ones lulled to sleep by the vehicles movement, and the older ones kept quiet by the last couple of days events.

Sarah Puckerman was so quiet that it made Santana ache a little. Sarah had always been a little shy, and was more likely to have her nose in a book than anything else, but now she just looked on the edge of tears every time Santana looked at her. If Santana asked, Sarah would put Queenie back next to a sleeping Tiffany, who kept fitfully knocking the stuffed unicorn down, or she'd pull Beth's blanket back up from where the toddler had wiggled in her sleep. But mostly Sarah just stared out the window listlessly, barely acknowledging Brittany's arm around her.

Santana understood why Puck hadn't wanted his sister in his truck with him, why he had needed to be alone, really she did. But that didn't stop the sharp pang of dislike going through her for him, for being so selfish and putting his own loss of his mother over his sister's.

Hell, Sarah had been right there. She could have just as easily been killed along with the others in the library.

Santana wanted to sleep, needed to sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Louise Puckerman's corpse staring at her hungrily.

Then her mind would race over everyone they had lost at the town.

Louise Puckerman, Kendra and two of her sons, Max, and Josh.

Four people.

She leaned her head against the window, and listened to Quinn yawn from the driver's seat.

She'd heard mutterings about the total losses from the town as they had left.

Forty-nine people.

And they had lost four from their group. Only four.

Louise Puckerman hadn't liked Santana. Santana hadn't liked Louise Puckerman. But "only" four was wrong. That was four people that were dead and gone.

"Fuck," Santana whispered, glaring at the road ahead of them.

"Santana…don't curse in front of Lord Tubbington. You know he's trying is trying to clean up his language, and it's harder to do it if people are swearing around him," Brittany said quietly from the backseat.

Santana turned, and gave Britt a half smile, "Sorry Britt. Lord Tubbington." In the driver's seat, Quinn snorted, then yawned again.

Mack's car, which was ahead of them, started flashing the turn signal. Santana watched Quinn turn her's on, and starting veering towards the side of the road, where she parked.

Santana looked around, "There's nothing here."

Quinn shrugged, "We're down to a quarter tank, so hopefully there's a gas station nearby or something."

"Do you think it'll be safe?" Brittany asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you Brittany, even if I have to stand guard with Quinn's gun while you and Tiffany pee in a bush," Santana said, then yawned. Quinn snorted again, and muttered, "Pretty sure you're going to fall asleep standing up Santana."

Santana flashed to Louise's dead eyes, her snarling mouth, and the hungry stare she gave Santana.

"I'm fine," Santana said sullenly, and unbuckled her seat belt with an annoyed snap.

Quinn left the headlights on, and they illuminated Mack's car and the night around them, blurring in with the lights from the other vehicles. Santana wondered how much unwanted attention they were attracting.

Quinn stepped out of the car, and glared at Santana when she opened her door and started to get out of the car. Santana rolled her eyes, but sat back and waited until Quinn was at the driver's side door, Brittany next to her. Together, the two blondes helped Santana out, and with a backward glance at the still sleeping children (even Sarah had finally slept,) they helped Santana limp to the where the others were gathering. Everyone looked tired, and worried. Not a surprise.

Burt cleared his throat, "Anyone else running low on gas?" At peoples confirmations and nods, (and a few sheepish raised hands,) Burt added with a sigh, "We're about a mile away from a truck stop. It's the only place within ten miles to get gas. That other place is a small town, and I think we all can agree that'd be riskier," Burt said at the looks he was getting.

He rubbed a hand around his jaw, lightly massaging it for a second, then added, "I want at least one person from each vehicle going. Everyone else will wait here. We should have enough gas cans to get each vehicle at least up to half a tank in only two trips. That should be enough to last us till we get to the cabin, and for a while afterwards. I don't know…One person, each car. You've got five minutes. We've got a walkie talkie set to keep in contact, we'll be done in no time..." he stopped, and sighed, taking off his hat and wiping a hand on his sweaty head. Santana wondered why he was so hot since it was fairly damn cold out, but then mentally shrugged it away. Probably it was a guy thing, or maybe Kurt was keeping the heater on high in their SUV.

Santana wrapped an arm around Brittany, and turned towards Quinn. "We'll take care of Beth Q. You got this."

Before Quinn could reply, Brittany said, "I'm going."

Santana pulled away, and stared at Brittany. "No way. No way in hell are you going. No way." Santana had already thought she'd lost Brittany once today, that was enough.

Brittany stared at Santana seriously, then said quietly, "I'm so scared Santana. I need to know I can do this. That when something happens to you, to Quinn, to everyone, that I'll be able to go outside and leave Lord Tubbington to watch Tiffany, while I get whatever we need. "

Santana looked at Brittany, furious tears pooling in her eyes, "I know you're scared, so am I. And you…you can't. You have to stay here, where it's safe. Quinn can go, Brittany. She's a badass, nothing is going to happen to her. You, you aren't going."

Brittany looked at Santana sadly. "I'm scared, and I have to do this so I won't be so scared Santana. I love you. But I need to do this for me."

Santana blinked, and angry tears came down her face. Brittany pulled Santana into her arms, and whispered into her ear, "San, please. I need to do this, to know I can when it's just me and Tiffany."

Santana hissed back, "It'll never be just you and Tiffany. Never. I swear, I'll-"

Brittany gently interrupted her, "You don't know that Santana. You don't, you can't." The blonde pulled away, and looked down, then looked at Santana, "I was so sure everyone else was dead, and it was just a matter of time for us. When Sam said you and The Mack were downstairs, and you came in through the window, I thought I was in heaven. Well, there weren't beds of cotton candy and winged unicorns…but that stuff is just silly and not real anyway. " Brittany stepped back, "Quinn's staying, I'm going. I need your bat…remind me once we're at the cabin to knit a strap for it, so it can go on your back."

Santana swallowed, tears pricking at her eyes.

Brittany didn't believe in unicorns anymore? Or cotton candy, which actually existed, not that they were going to be seeing any more anytime again.

She looked at Brittany hopeless, then wiped at her eyes. "Of course you can borrow it. And a strap would be nice."

Brittany smiled softly, illuminated by the car lights, "Thanks Santana. I'll try really hard not to die, don't worry."

Santana muttered, "Do what Quinn would do Brittany, okay?" as she watched as Brittany went back to Quinn's SUV to check on her sister, and angrily wiped away her tears.

Quinn came back, and silently they both watched Brittany finish checking on her sister, then get Santana's bat from the front seat.

Quinn stayed silent, but gently put a hand on Santana's shoulder.

"If anything happens to her I don't know what I'll do," Santana said, more to herself then Quinn.

"You'll live, Santana. You'll devote yourself to making sure Tiffany lives to be an 80 year old, and you'll live. " Quinn replied quietly.

"That's the thing, Quinn. I don't know if I can do that. If anything happens to her…I…I love her so much it scares me. But I'm more scared of her going out there without me," Santana spat out, annoyed at herself for feeling that way, and for admitting it.

"They'll be okay," Quinn stated as she started helping Santana back to the SUV.

Santana wanted to find whoever started all this, and go Snix on their ass.

* * *

It had taken them thirty-seven minutes to walk from the cars to the truck stop. They only had two flashlights, and Mr. Anderson had grabbed the one she'd been reaching for almost right out of her hands, so it was a little scary. The moon helped, at least. She tried not to enjoy the way Mr. Hummel quietly told Mr. Anderson to stop being mean and realize there was bigger things to worry about then their sons being in love and together. Well, he said it more mature and adult, but that was the gist. Brittany knew Mr. Hummel was right; there was nothing wrong with Klaine love, and there was probably gay, lesbian, and bi zombies who were accepted by the straight zombies. And if they can accept each other, then people can.

She frowned, as she realized that was….stupid of her to think. Zombies were dead, hungry corpses who didn't care about each other. She had to stop thinking stupid things like that.

Lord Tubbington had followed them for seven minutes, until she had told him to go back and keep an eye on Tiffany and the SUV.

She didn't think he'd be very good at killing zombies, but that's okay, he had his own skills. Everyone was different and had their own skills.

Like Brittany had always been good with numbers. She didn't think it was a big deal or anything.

She didn't know if she'd be good at killing zombies. Or running from zombies. She didn't think she was really even that good at hiding from zombies, just really really lucky. Maybe she should have let Quinn come instead.

But Brittany owed Quinn. Quinn had saved Tiffany, and Santana and Brittany. And Quinn needed a break, and needed to stay with Beth, and Brittany was scared. The best way to stop being scared was to face your fears, according to Coach Sue. Or maybe it was some long dead old dude. Either way, it was good advice.

Santana feared losing Brittany (and Brittany understood that, because she totally was scared of losing Santana. And Tiffany. And Quinn, and Beth who was basically a tinier grumpier version of Quinn,) so Brittany insisting on going to get gas with the group was a good way for both of them to face their fears. Plus, she felt really really awful that they hadn't been able to save anyone else at the library…this was her way of righting that. A tiny bit.

Next to her Finn shuffled. He was probably scared too, but wasn't acting like it much.

In front of them, Burt was finishing whatever he had been saying. Quinn would be paying attention, so she should have probably been paying attention too, she realized with a frown. But then again, she was tired -they all were, and so it was maybe okay she wasn't paying that much attention.

If it was her time to die, then there wasn't really anything she could do

"I don't know how many there are, but between-" he was saying.

Without thinking, Brittany said, "There's thirty-seven outside, another eleven in the cars." The lights were on, and bright in the gas station parking lot, and from where they were it was easy to see.

Burt paused, "Oh. Well thank you Brittany. Alright, so the plans the same. Between the ten of us, as long as everyone gets three. No guns. Will, Alan and I will get the rest."

"What if we want to get more than three?" The Mack asked from Brittany's other side, where she was casually holding a crowbar. Brittany liked her nail polish, even if it was chipped, and wondered if they were technically not Cheerios anymore, and if they weren't, could they wear colored nail polish now? Coach hadn't let them wear colors. She'd have to ask Santana. She had packed a few bottles just in case. Maybe she could paint her and Tiffany's nails when they drove? Beth's too. And maybe Sarah's, if it'd make her feel better.

She was going to throw away the red bottle of polish though. And the yellow. Which was a shame, because until earlier today she really liked yellow, but now she couldn't think about it without thinking about the poor Story Lady, which lead to thoughts about Puck's mom, and then all the children.

Brittany shuddered as Burt said, "Alright everyone, let's go. " The group started forward. It only took Brittany a second to get into step with the rest of the group. She realized that she had stopped paying attention again. And that was really bad, Quinn wouldn't stop paying attention. And Santana had told her to do what Quinn would do.

Santana probably didn't mean everything that Quinn did though. It had been easy for Brittany to listen to everyone's experience getting to the rest stop, and do the math. Listening was another thing she was really really good at.

There was no way Shelby's condo building had been surrounded by zombies like Quinn had said, given the area of town it was in.

Brittany wasn't going to tell anyone that though. She figured Quinn had a good reason to lie.

She swung the bat, and hit a zombie in the head. It went down.

She was going to need a shower. She needed one anyway, but now she was really going to need one.

Around her, the others were busy hitting zombies. So far, so good as only a few zombies had noticed them and came towards them.

She figured, with the amount of people that were in the group, and the amount of food that was in the vehicles, they could

survive for three months. Five with heavy rationing. Like, Oregon Trail rationing. That was a fun game. Every time she played it Santana would always do the hunting. One time she convinced Brittany to buy nothing but bullets and spare wagon parts, and they left a trail of dead animals along the Oregon Trail.

A car alarm went off. She didn't know which car, or who had set it off.

If Quinn, Santana and herself took off with Beth and Tiffany and all the food, they could survive for...a long while. She wasn't too sure how much a toddler should eat, so she couldn't be sure on the math. Not that they would do that, because it'd be mean to take all the food and Brittany tried not to be mean, even if it was really hard sometimes.

All the zombies in the parking lot seemed to group together. Were they faster in groups? She hit another one in the head.

This was so different from the library, if only she had had Santana's bat there.

She really liked Santana's baseball bat. She wondered where she could get some yarn to knit Santana a holder for it. Something pretty colored, that would make Santana smile to see. Not pink, but maybe a turquoise shade.

She counted fifty-three zombies. There must have been some in places she couldn't count from the hill where they had stood and listened to Burt. Or half listened, in Brittany's case.

Somehow the group had stopped being big, and had separated into groups of twos or ones.

She really needed to start paying more attention, and not get lost in her thoughts so much.

The hoard surged forward, and Brittany suddenly felt that panicky fear she had felt in the library. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all.

Then she tripped.

* * *

She felt hollowed out as she leaned against her SUV, face pressed into the glass watching her daughter sleep. Sitting next to her, a dull eyed Santana sat leaning against the tire, watching the road the group had walked down to get gas.

It had been two hours.

Quinn wanted to curl up and nap. She had dozed briefly in the driver's seat while they waited, but after waking up in a panic, struggling to breath because she was so convinced Beth had woken up, got out of her car seat, and wandered away from the cars in search of Shelby, she didn't dare try to get some rest.

Emma had been walking from car to car checking on everyone, and updating the Away Team's (as Sam had dubbed them, in attempt to lighten the mood) status. At least, it was every ten minutes. She had sat in Will's car staring at her walkie talkie for the last half hour, pale faced and somber.

So she waited. As she watching her daughter sleep, she racked her mind trying to remember every bit of interaction she'd seen her sister do with Quinn's nephews and niece. When in doubt, "be like Frannie" was a motto that'd never let Quinn down yet. She might have learned from a begrudging Louise Puckerman everything she needed to know, but that wasn't exactly something that could happen now. And Quinn wasn't brave enough to ask Carole Hudson anything, waving around her daughter in the older woman's face, pretending like Quinn hadn't lied about Finn's fatherhood, hadn't devastated Carole with being a grandmother, then taken it back.

Puck and Sam had decided to patrol a little, just to make sure there weren't any problems with zombies…around. So at least the group here was safe, even though the car lights were basically giant homing beacons. No wonder she had knots in her stomach.

Finally, Emma Pillsbury, paler then before, stepped out of Will's car. Quinn was glad for the distraction.

"Everyone, come here please," The redhead said, looking down. It didn't take more than a minute for everyone to double check on the children still sleeping in vehicles, then to gather around Emma.

Emma took a deep breath, "There isn't an easy way to say this. …Three of our people aren't coming back. I don't know who it is. These walkie talkies are cheap children's toys. We're almost outside their boundary and the reception isn't good, and all I've been getting is fuzz since Will told me they had trouble and lost people. They will be back in no longer then twenty minutes, and I wanted you all to be prepared. As prepared as you can be for the loss of three people, anyway. I know it's been a trying time, but I am confident our luck will be turning. "

A ghostly looking Santana looked at Quinn, eyes wide with fear. "What if it's Brittany," Santana whispered, "If they had trouble…three people...she's not…god, I should have insisted you go instead Quinn. You can take care of yourself, Brittany can't. I should have tied her up. I should have...She's dead, and it's all my fault, I just thought I had lost her, but this time I really did," Santana continued for several moments more in Spanish, speaking too rapidly for Quinn to even attempt to try to use her very rusty Spanish skills to translate.

And then Santana burst into tears.

Quinn could only look at Santana. After a few more sobs, Emma attempted to reach towards the sobbing girl to comfort her, causing Santana to practically growl, then turn and run back to Quinn's SUV.

Tina's face had crumbled, she was crying quietly.

Blaine's step mother, holding Blaine's half sister in a sling, just looked in shock, and was clearly about to start crying herself.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Rachel pull Tina into a hug, letting the other girl sob in her shoulder. Rachel herself just looked towards the direction the remaining truck stop group would be coming from, hopeful and sad and causing Quinn's heart to ache.

Quinn stomped after Santana, who hadn't gotten that far away since her knee hadn't magically healed itself while they were driving.

She watched Santana stumble, then fall to the ground, too far back to catch the other girl. Still, she raced to where Santana was pulling herself up and sitting on the ground, staring off towards the woods, silently crying now. Lord Tubbington was sitting next to her, staring at her.

Quinn sat down next to Santana, the light casting shadows on both of them.

"San," Quinn said, her voice low. Her stomach was knotted so tight she felt like she'd throw up in any moment. She couldn't even imagine what state Santana was in.

Santana ignored her.

Quinn sighed, and wrapped her arm around Santana. The only acknowledgement Santana gave Quinn was to lean against her.

Quinn tried to tell herself that they didn't know who it was that wasn't coming back, in attempts to stop herself from panicking about Mack and Brittany.

Even still, she felt herself spiraling down into despair at the thought of neither of them never coming back. Of Brittany, sweet Brittany, being one of those things. And Santana's pain. All she could do was hold onto Santana, and hope that between herself and Tiffany, they'd be enough to keep Santana from doing anything rash if Brittany _had_ died.

* * *

It was twenty long minutes before a van came barreling down the road towards the parked cars, then parked in the road next to the Mack's car.

Which made sense, as the Mack was the driver.

Quinn was up and following Santana, who as soon as the van came into view was up and on her feet.

"Brittany?" Santana called, wiping her tears away, and starting to open the back of the van even before the Mack had parked it, "You need to tell me, where's Brittany!?"

"I'm here San," Brittany said, popping her head out the side door, "The Mack and Finn helped me when I fell."

Santana stood and gaped at the blonde girl, before as fast as she could limping and in pain towards Brittany, and pulling her into a hug. Brittany winced a bit, and the pair started quietly whispering to each other.

Quinn took a deep breath, and concentrated on breathing.

A limping Burt walked to the middle of the road, and everyone gathered around him.

"We lost Alan, Mike, and Julie, " he started, taking his hat off, "We should have a moment of silence for them."

Tina crumpled from where she had been standing next to Rachel.

Everyone stood silently for several minutes, the sound of Tina crying was all they heard, then he continued with a sigh, "I know this isn't easy for any of you, but we don't have time to mourn any longer. Let's get those cars filled. There was plenty of gas cans around, so we won't have to go back. We leave in fifteen. I suggest everyone make a trip to the bushes. Take a partner, no one goes alone. "

Quinn went and kneeled down next to Tina, ignoring Rachel's look at her, before she went to Finn.

"Tina," she whispered, "I know…I know you feel like the world has be pulled out from under you, and that you'll never be the same again…"

It took Tina a couple of moments to reply, "He…he was all I had left Quinn. What am I going to do?"

Quinn licked her lips, trying to control the harsh tone threatening to spill out of her. Tina didn't deserve Quinn taking her frustration out on her, "You're going to live. And right now, you need to decide if you want to drive Mrs. Chang's car, or ride with someone else."

"I…I can't. It's just so hard, I..." and the girl sobbed. Quinn pulled her close, and rubbed circles into her back, at a loss of anything else to do besides being a bitch, which wouldn't help Tina any.

Silently, Rachel came up to them, to Quinn's surprise that the shorter girl would leave Finn, and kneeled down, "Tina, if you don't feel as though you can drive, you can ride with The Mack and me, shall I put your things in the Mack's van?"

Tina managed to nod. Rachel gave Quinn a long, sad look, then went to go move Tina's things. Our of the corner of her eye, she could see Rachel say something to the Mack, then the Mack get out things to siphon whatever gas she could out of Mrs. Chang's car. Which was, Quinn admitted, a good idea even if it was a little cold.

Eventually, Quinn managed to get Tina up long enough to step into the bushes to pee, then had her settled into a bed Rachel had made for her on the floor of the van, since there were only two seats up front.

"She will be okay, eventually," Rachel murmured as the pair of them watched Tina burrow into her blankets, then start crying into Mike's hoodie, "We all will."

"It was a good idea to get her some of Mike's things, and all their blankets and pillows," Quinn said, crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself. Quinn suddenly felt exhausted. The last 24 hours had been horrible, and she longed for the quiet, calm, relaxing sereneness of the Jones's cabin.

She'd settle for washing her face and a cup of room temperature instant black coffee.

"I made the assumption that she would like his things, he did not have much, and there's quite a bit of room in the Mack's new vehicle. " Rachel said. They both stepped back, and Rachel closed the side door quietly.

"Quinn, I-" Rachel started after a moment, but Quinn shrugged, and said, "I've got to go."

Quinn told herself she wasn't running away from Rachel, she just really needed to go check on Beth.

* * *

Rachel watched Quinn walk away. She had wanted to make sure they were okay, and perhaps, if Rachel was feeling especially brave, to offer to watch Beth if Quinn needed a moment in the upcoming days. Quinn clearly wasn't ready to talk to Rachel, so Rachel would give her time.

She opened the passenger side door, and readjusted her backpack and messenger bag in the space between the driver and passenger side seat. The rifle was sitting next to her backpack and messenger bag. She looked thoughtfully at the rifle, then at Tina's huddled crying form buried under the blankets, and quietly unloaded the rifle. Just to be on the safe side, she told herself, as she stashed the bullets into her backpack, and set the rifle back down. It was likely safer to have it unloaded anyway.

Finn found her again, after she returned from taking Sarah to the bushes and back, since Santana, Brittany, and Quinn did not think to see if the girl was awake and needed to use the restroom.

"Rachel," he whispered, and pulled her into his arms. A much better reception then when she had first went up to him after they had returned. Granted, she had quickly left him to attend to Tina with Quinn, but still. She was too tired to feel annoyed anyway.

After they hugged, she looked up at him, "I was so relived and now I feel guiltily and-"

"Shhh, I know Rachel, it's okay," Finn said, looking down at her, then away.

"I'm sorry, I know I was starting to babble Finn, " She hugged him again, until he pulled away.

"I'm scared to Rachel. Like, tonight we lost Mike. Mike was a good guy. Who else are we going to lose? And I just..."

"Finn," Rachel said gently, "We'll get through this together. Us and everyone else."

"It's not that Rachel, I mean I'm upset about Mike and his mom too…It's just that…" Finn stepped away from her, and kicked an empty soda bottle that was on the ground near where they stood in the road. "Mrs. Puckerman, and now Matt and his mom are dead and Blaine's dad is dead. So many people are dying, and I'm an idiot, I can't help, not really, and I feel like everyone's looking at me to lead us like this is glee club,"

"No one is looking at you Finn, they're looking at Mr. Hummel, and Mr. Schue. And you aren't an i-"

"Rachel, I am. I believed Quinn when she told me I got her pregnant f...from the hot tub." Finn looked so dejected that it made Rachel's heart ache.

"Perhaps you aren't as smart as some people, and a little naive, but you are kind Finn. That counts," she reached up and put a hand on his shoulder, looking at him intently.

"I was such a dick before Rachel, god…and all that high school crap seems so pointless now," Finn sighed, "I'm worried about Burt, too. This is a lot of stress. What if he has another heart attack? My mom's a nervous wreck, and Puck's…Puck's messed up about his mom, and I wonder if he blames me because I wouldn't let him leave that guy's house we were at. And... I have to see his and Quinn's daughter all the time now, and even though Quinn and I aren't together, that still kinda hurts you know? We-I thought I was going to be a dad, and then I wasn't. Mr. Anderson wasn't letting Blaine spend any time with Kurt, and Kurt's upset about that Blaine just went along with it, and now Mr. Anderson is dead. Then there's the zombies, it's just all so fucked up," He looked at her with teary eyes.

"Seeing their daughter brings up conflicting feelings in me as well Finn," She whispered, wrapping her arms around him for another hug. They just stood like that in silence for several minutes.

"Thanks Rachel, I feel better." Finn said finally, pulling away.

"So do I Finn, a little, even though the pain of losing my father's is catastrophic," She smiled up at him, "Perhaps you should apologize, and explain to Puck that there was nothing he could have done except get killed if you had let him leave the house you were confined in until the Mayor's people liberated you?"

"I...I'll try, but maybe I should give him a few days to cool down," Finn wiped away the tears that had fallen down his face, quickly. Rachel wondered why boys didn't think girls knew they cried. Perhaps it was because they were a couple. Her father's had cried in front of each other though, and once or twice together. She wondered if female couples did, and made a note to ask Brittany.

"Berry, Quarterback, we're leaving," The Mack called from next to the van. Rachel thought the Mack's former vehicle looked sad, to be emptied out and abandoned on the side of the road like that. Which was silly, as it was just a car and couldn't feel. That didn't stop her from reassuringly giving it a pat on the hood as she walked by it.

Before she buckled her seat belt, she turned to check on Tina, who seemed to have cried herself to sleep. Rachel gave a little sigh to herself.

Things would be better, for everyone, once they got to the Jones's cabin.

* * *

Brittany had driven the last two hours since the ill fated gas station run, and now Quinn was taking another turn. They would have to cross a bridge no matter what, but this particular bridge was the largest.

They had stopped briefly for a few bathroom breaks, but otherwise kept driving steadily. Quinn was about ready to claw her own eyes out.

Burt had promised another stop after they got across the bridge and far enough away from the town they'd have to drive through, and that from there on it'd be a straight drive to the cabin, assuming they didn't have any detours or too many stops.

She felt a flutter of anticipation as they made the turn that would, in two short minutes, take them to the bridge. She remembered driving this way when her family had gone camping, her father would always get them donuts and a bottle of ice cold milk at a tiny little shop that was there right after the bridge. He'd always make the same dumb joke, and the Fabray women would always giggle. They'd get lunch at a homey restaurant that was on the edge of town.

A dull ache went through her, and she felt the anticipation well up in her. Obviously the donut shop and restaurant wouldn't be open, but just seeing them as they drove by would be nice.

The bridge came into view, and Quinn gasped.

It looked like a bomb had hit it. The town on the other side didn't fare any better.

She felt tears well up in her eyes, and a sob escaped. Next to her Santana cursed in Spanish.

She pulled over, following the example of the Mack's van.

Silently, both girls got out of the car, leaving Brittany with Tiffany, Beth and Sarah.

They went to a solemn and peaky looking Burt, standing in a semi circle with the everyone else who had left the cars.

Burt sighed, "I'm sorry, we'll just have to go back, and keep driving on a different route. I know everyone's tired, but I think we can all agree that it'll be safer to stay at the cabin then any place else. We leave in five."

Numbly, Quinn followed Santana back to her SUV. She changed a sleepy Beth's diaper, and just held the toddler to her shoulder until it was time to put her back in her car seat.

* * *

Quinn did an amazing job of avoiding being alone with Rachel during their brief rest stops as they back tracked to a different route. If there still was Olympics, and "Avoiding Alone Time with Rachel Berry," was a sport, she'd get the gold medal.

She _had_ exchanged a few words with Rachel -about the weather of all things, when she had checked on Tina. And Mrs. Schuester, since the woman was pregnant and Quinn couldn't imagine how awful it was to be pregnant during the end of the world. The pink haired girl could tell the short brunette was getting frustrated.

Dawns bright tendrils were reaching up, signaling a new day and hope by the time they pulled onto the road that would, within fifteen minutes, lead them to the Jones's cabin.

A flutter of anticipation and gladness filled her. Even Santana looked happy.

They had to drive slow, and Burt must not be feeling that well because he had given in to Terri's angry pregnant lady demands of more bathroom breaks (and he had looked a little pale. Quinn was pretty sure she had seen him throwing up, too, but he had brushed her off when she had asked if he was okay.)

So it had taken them almost all night to get here, but that was okay, because they were here. She drove carefully along the mountain road, anticipation welling up at a steady pace inside of her. She hoped Mercedes's and her family weren't too put out by them arriving.

When they got to the cabin's driveway, she could barely contain herself. She parked behind the Mack's van, and got out of the car, egger. She was ready to see Mercedes's, to apologize. She was ready to show off Beth to Dr. and Dr. Jones. And to thank them, properly, for taking her in when she was pregnant and had nowhere else to go. You wouldn't know it by Mercedes's at times diva behavior, but the Jones's were a kind, caring family who would help a stranger if asked.

Which, she admitted to herself, they had basically done when they had taken her in.

The gate was padlocked.

Quinn stared at it in shock. As the others gathered around the gate, she finally shrugged, and said, "Mercedes wasn't that thrilled you guys picked this place. Probably her family wanted us to go somewhere else, because even they have a limit to their kindness and generosity, and I'm betting that limit is_ zombies._"

A somehow sweaty, despite the chilly early morning air, Burt nodded at the padlock, "It's late, well, early, and we can't go anywhere, everyone is too exhausted. Kurt and I will go in, talk to them, explain, grovel, and come out with the key. "

Quinn watched as the father and son pair climbed over the gate, and nervously tapped her fingers in the hood of the car next to her. Everyone was silent, watching and waiting. Even Beth, who was being held by Puck after Santana had handed the toddler to him, with a glare was quiet.

Several long, long minutes passed before the pair returned, and climbed over the gate.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Kurt flung himself at Blaine, wrapping his arms around the other boy, and put his head on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine looked confused, and gently held him.

Burt took off his hat, and looked down. Finally, after a moment he said, "There's really no easy way to say this…they're all…there might be some people in the cabin, but-"

"What Dad's trying to say is that Mercedes, her entire family, and I do mean _entire,_ and what looks like a dozen of Junior's dorm mates…he must have invited them over if they had nowhere else to go. They're…all of them…" Kurt said, slowly, as if he almost didn't believe what he was saying, his voice slightly muffled by Blaine's shoulder.

"They're zombies." Quinn finished for him, when Kurt couldn't bring himself to say it after a long minute. She felt a feeling of horror grow inside her, and looked at the rest of the group in shock as Burt nodded his confirmation sadly.


	9. Woke Up This Morning

Tina, already on edge from Mike's death, wailed and started sobbing, causing a somber faced Rachel to wrap an arm around the other girl, keeping her from falling to the ground. Next to Rachel, Finn stared stone faced at the gate.

Everyone stood around, looking at each other. No one, it seemed, not even Mr. Hummel wanted to voice what they needed to do next.

Quinn swallowed, and looked at the ground. Then, finally, tentatively, but her voice growing stronger with each word, said, "This is going to take everyone except for a couple of people we'll leave with the kids in the cars," Quinn said flatly, her tone daring anyone to argue, "Mrs. Anderson, and Terri. Everyone else, we'll divide up into groups. " Terri, holding her stomach looked relieved. Mrs. Anderson looked, as she had since Mr. Anderson died, like her world had ended. Quinn was pretty sure that Santana's trophy wife theory about Mrs. Anderson was wrong, just given Mrs. Anderson's reaction to her husband's death.

Burt, still sweaty and pale, nodded at Quinn's words, then added, "We should wait a few hours, first give everyone a chance to rest. Maybe make some coffee," he sighed, "We don't know how many are inside, but there's at least three dozen outside. "

"Mercedes was our friend! We can't just-" Kurt says hotly, pulling his face off of Blaine's shoulder, and wiping his teary eyes, while glaring at his father and Quinn. Quinn felt Santana leave the spot next to her and limp to the SUV.

Quinn stared at him, "You think this is easy, Kurt? I…her family helped me out, and I never even bothered to really thank them. Mercedes is dead. Her family is dead. Anyone else in there is dead. We're alive. We need this place more than they do, they don't need anything."

"Except to be freed from being forced to walk around like that...trying to eat people," Rachel added gently, giving Kurt a sad look.

Will sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, "There might be survivors holed up inside, who can't wait a few hours. Can anyone really sleep right now that many who could easily break the fences and surround the cars? We should go as soon as we can. We've got some instant coffee somewhere…it won't taste great, but it'll help. We do this now, get it done, then we can camp out in the cars the rest of the day, and take as long as we need cleaning, disinfecting, and burying the bodies down the road."

"Why down the road?" Finn asked.

"Don't want to bury them on the property, it might contaminate the land. And I don't think anyone could stomach eating something that was grown over a grave, which is a good idea." Burt replied for Will, tiredly.

"Here Quinn, " Santana said, returned, handing Quinn her gun, an opened box of ammo which Quinn shoved in the pouch of her sweatshirt, and machete, and putting her bat up on her shoulders. This promoted the rest of the group to break up, and go grab weapons.

Santana pulled Brittany off to the side to speak to her privately, leaving Quinn alone.

Quinn strapped her holster and leg sheath on, putting the weapon in but leaving the straps off. Puck, having brought his bat out with him, came over to Quinn while everyone was getting their weapons.

"Quinn," Puck said looking at her seriously, "Be careful, okay? We only just got Beth back…she needs her mom. I lost my mom, I can't lose you too."

"Puck…" Quinn said, throat dry.

"It's okay Quinn…I've been thinking. We've got our daughter back, we're both single…we have a chance to be a family," He looked at her, and pulled her close, into a hug, dropping his bat on the ground as he did so. He held her for a second, before whispering into her ear, "We'll give us a chance again, Quinn. We'll be a better couple then we were. Nothing can stop us from being great. Hell, maybe in a few more years we can have another baby."

Quinn wanted to tell him that they weren't getting back together. That Quinn wanted Rachel, and Puck was a distant…not even second. If she absolutely had to get into a relationship with someone not Rachel, let alone a guy, she'd pick sweet, dependable kinda dorky Sam over Puck. Her stomach twisted…she wasn't ready to tell Puck yet. Hell, she was barely able to tell herself that she might like…women. Or at least Rachel. Shouldn't she get a time to figure it out? Why should she have to decide now?

She wrapped one arm around him, and used the other to pat his shoulder, staying silent. She'd figure out how to tell him…something, later. Right now she needed to focus, they all did. And if the thought of getting back together would help him fight better, then she'd let him think that. She'd worry about it once they were safe.

As the others started coming back from the vehicles, Puck pulled away from her, looking at her with deep, serious eyes, and a grim look of determination.

It didn't take long for them to split up into groups. Well, two groups. Somehow, all the women ended up in one group, and all the men in another.

Burt looked critically at Quinn's group, then said, "We'll take inside the house, then come help you all clear the grounds. Should be easier outside then in…"

Then there was nothing left to say. Quinn doubled checked that she had enough ammo, and lead the way, Santana and the Mack next to her, Santana lightly leaning on Mack, Brittany slightly behind Santana, and Tina, Rachel, Emma, and Carole following behind Quinn.

"Go team girl power, " The Mack muttered as they climbed over the gate.

* * *

They could have been fighting for an hour, or for five minutes, Quinn wasn't sure. The repetitive action of dodge dodge slash slash hack hack dodge was only broken up when she used her gun.

Somehow along the way they had divided up into pairs, with Quinn being the lone person. Quinn made it her duty to go from pair to pair, lending a helping hand where she could, usually with her gun.

Quinn had thought she would end up keeping a close eye on Rachel, but instead found watching Tina as she flittered from one pair to the next. (Rachel was doing a great job, teamed up with Brittany and the two of them hadn't really needed much watching or help.)

Well, she kept an eye on everyone really, just more so on Tina. She didn't want anyone dead on her watch.

Quinn watched Tina go towards the group of zombies with a serious intensity that made her concerned for the other girl. It was almost like Tina didn't care if she lived or died, waving the baseball around, dodging and hitting the zombie head's hard enough to put make them stay down for good. Not that Quinn was one to talk about anyone's mental state. Carole, who lagged behind her, was only killing the ones she knocked to the ground for the older woman to finish off.

Although, everyone was distracted it seemed, Quinn caught the glance here and there everyone made towards the cabin. Well, except for Santana...her glances were only to check and make sure Brittany was okay (and to give Quinn a nod). Even though she was clearly busy zigging to the Mack's zagging (and damn if they didn't make a scary good team, Quinn though, even with Mack having to compensate for Santana's knee.), she still took the time to call out a warning to whoever else was near, or tell Quinn another pair needed help.

Quinn wondered, as she took out her gun and started firing when she was sure she wouldn't accidentally hit anyone, how the group in the cabin was doing.

Rachel came into view, and for a second time slowed.

Rachel held her rifle like a trained marksman, doing shot after shot far more accurately then Quinn was shooting. While she was shooting and reloading, Brittany was doing a good job of covering the smaller girl's back. Quinn drank in the intent, somber look on Rachel's face...the same look she'd get when forced to audition for a solo she felt was rightfully hers.

Quinn snapped out of it when Carole screamed, and turned towards the sound as Tina went to go help Carole. Then Tina started screaming as group of college sweatshirt clad zombies holding Carole spilt up and latched onto Tina as well. The zombies latched onto the pair, holding hair and limbs. Both were doing their best to struggle away and not be bitten, but it was only a matter of time.

Quinn raised her gun, and ran towards them.

She only had five or six bullets left.

She'd have to choose who to save, a traitorous voice said in her mind. She grit her teeth, legs pumping as she ran. She'd save them both. No one was going to die on her watch. No one.

When she was close enough, she raised the gun and killed the zombie that had a hold of Tina's hair, and was about to bite down on her neck.

Then she kept running.

It felt like an eternity as she hacked and slashed and used the gun twice more, blocking out everything and everyone except saving Tina. Eventually she got Tina freed.

She turned to Carole, ready to save her next.

Then stood in horror, watching as the screaming woman was devoured by zombies.

She had been too late, she realized dimly, standing there in shock, unable to turn away.

It was Rachel, tears in her eyes, and using her rifle who ended Carole's suffering, and put down the zombies feasting on the older woman.

* * *

"I think that's it, " Santana murmured, sometime after Quinn had made her split second decision. There had been several long minutes when no more zombies came barreling towards them and they were cautiously ready to say they were done with all the zombies outside.

"How many do you think we got, " The Mack finally asked after the silence lasted several moments.

"Forty-nine, but I could have missed counting some, " Brittany answered with a shrug as she went to let Santana lean against her.

"Let's head back to the cars, Mack and I will watch our backs," Quinn said softly.

"Do you think they're doing as good as we are, relatively speaking?" The Mack nonchalantly asked no one in particular, turning and looking at the cabin.

"I'm sure they're fine," Santana said, shrugging and wincing as she and Brittany started walking back to the cars.

They grouped together, Rachel leading the way. Together, they limped back to the cars. Quinn was sore and achy. It felt like the last few days were catching up to her. She doubted she was the only one.

She was sure Carole's screams were going to haunt her for the rest of her days, however many that'll be. Hell, Finn's mom would always be a ghost following Quinn around. She was responsible for her death. Why on earth had she choose to save Tina first? Sure, Tina was doing way better at killing zombies then Carole, but the other girl seemed like she didn't care if she lived or died which had to give her an edge. Why had she picked the suicidal zombie killer over a nurse? What if someone -what if Beth got sick? Santana still had her injured knee, and almost everyone had minor injuries from what happened at the town.

There was nothing surrounding the cars except pine trees and road as they came up to the gate, and for that Quinn was grateful. With a heavy sigh, she pulled herself up and over, landing with a dull thud, the Mack landing next to her. She helped Santana down, and they both helped Brittany, Rachel, and Ms. Pillsbury.

She watched everyone else go towards the cars, and Quinn leaned against a tree, and threw up what little she'd ate. Once she was finally done, she spit, and wiped her mouth, tears coming to her eyes.

Exhaustion went through Quinn. She hoped Puck wasn't half as tired as she was, so she could give him Beth to deal with for the day. Guilt welled in her. She should be taking care of Beth...Beth was her daughter, after all, but she was also Puck's. So she squished the guilt down, she deserved a few hours, Puck hadn't hardly taken care of her at all anyway. She hoped Puck wouldn't want her to stay with him too. She absolutely wasn't ready to tell him they weren't getting back together. Because he'd want a good reason.

Terri opened the door to the SUV, and looked out at them. "Well?"

"We lost Carole," Emma said, her hands already full with wet wipes and a huge bottle of rubbing alcohol, "But I don't believe we missed any."

"And the cabin?" Terri asked, "Do you think we'll be able to sleep there tonight?"

"I don't know. We'll have to wait till Burt, Will and the others come back, but I'm sure we can get the…" Emma winced, "bodies taken care of and the cabin cleaned by tonight," Emma replied, already rubbing her exposed bits of skin with the wet wipes. It was going to take a lot of wet wipes, Quinn thought dully. They were all covered with blood and gore.

She was pretty sure she was going to burn the clothing she was wearing, that there was no point in trying to save it, and she was glad she had worn an old pair of jeans, and t-shirt. It was a shame about the sweatshirt and sports bra though, but hopefully she could talk Burt into letting them go get stuff at the nearest town. Sam's siblings weren't complaining about wearing the other kid's clothing or not having that much of their own toys, but she still wanted them to have their own things.

Quinn tuned them out after Terri said the kids were okay and enjoying the movie, and just slumped against the vehicle, sliding down to sit against the tire.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and all she could see was Carole getting pulled apart and eaten alive until Rachel put the older woman out of her misery, repeating endlessly.

She opened her eyes, stopping the vision, and looked at Rachel. The brunette had her arms wrapped around herself, and was looking at the gate with a solemn longing that made Quinn's heart ache.

What if Finn...? There had been a lot of noise coming from the cabin, including gun fire, and just maybe…

A tiny sliver of guilty hope went through her along with a huge dose of self-hatred. Was this was she was reduced to? Hoping a boy she had once convinced herself she was in love with was dead so she could swoop in and steal his girlfriend, and never have to look at him and remember she didn't save his mother?

Quinn jumped, and put aside that train of thoughts as Jacob Ben Israel noisily climbed over the gate, panting and spattered in blood. A solemn Sam followed him. Behind him, Finn and Puck helped a weak looking Burt limp along. Blaine and Kurt followed behind them, clutching a bat and a heavy looking log. All of them looked tired.

Quinn stood up, and reached the gate, brushing past Jacob Ben Israel to Sam.

"Where's Mr. Schue?" She asked him, looking at him intently.

"Dead." Sam looked down, then added louder for everyone to here, "Mr. Schue is dead."

She gasped. She heard Terri gasp as well. Quinn looked around at the everyone gathered around the gate. Everyone but Kendra, even a sad looking Mrs. Anderson was holding her baby, gathered with them. There was various stages of shock and denial on everyone's faces, and more than a few people were starting to cry.

"And Mr. Hummel is having a heart attack, we think. We need Finn's mom," Sam said, setting his clutched rifle down against a post next to the gate, and looking towards the SUV that held his siblings and the other kids that were awake.

"They're fine. Watching a movie," she whispered to him, knowing he was concerned about his siblings. Mr. Schue was dead? In shock, she just looked at Sam, questioningly.

Before either of them could say any more, before anyone could, Finn and Puck were helping Burt over the gate, and Quinn found herself helping Sam as best she could to the get older man down. Mr. Hummel did not look ok. He was practically dripping with sweat. Quinn wondered if that was a symptom or something, since no one else had been nearly as sweaty the last few days.

As soon as Burt was on the other side of the fence, he said, "I'm…where's Carole? We need to start making plans to get the bodies moved onto the truck and buried down the road…I need Carole…..Kurt be strong..."

Sam and Quinn helped him stand, but Burt collapsed. They tried to prop him up, Quinn forcing her tired and aching muscles to do so, but the best they could do was make sure he didn't hit his head as he fell.

Kurt and Finn scrambled over the gate, bolting towards Burt's side. Blaine and Puck followed. Blaine immediately started doing CPR.

"Mom, we need mom. Where is she?" Finn demanded, as he wiped his teary face away.

"Finn…I'm so so sorry," Rachel said from where she stood watching, and started to cry. Finn's face crumpled, and he glared angrily at the gathered women, as if it was their fault his mom died. He didn't know it was Quinn's.

"We need her, we need a nurse," Kurt said, frantically looking around, as if he hadn't heard Rachel, "Dad needs a nurse. Someone do something, find her!"

No one said anything, all the sounds anyone could hear were the sound track to the movie the kids and Kendra were watching, and Blaine attempt CPR.

Finally, several long minutes later Emma pulled Blaine away from Burt, and checked his pulse.

"He's dead." She stated, looking down. She stood up, and stood back, clutching the bottle of rubbing alcohol as she started to cry. Quinn wasn't sure if she was crying for Burt or Mr. Schue. Maybe she was crying for herself.

No one said anything as Kurt started crying too.

Quinn wiped away the tears that silently fell down her face.

What were they going to do?

The early morning sun was now fully out, and it shed a harsh light on them all. No one, not even Teri looked okay…they looked like they'd been though something horrible and hadn't had a chance to process it yet.

Which, she realized dimly, was exactly what had happened.

Finally, Rachel tentatively said, "Perhaps, if we wish to inhabit the cabin tonight, we should start cleaning …..and moving the bodies?"

They stared at each other, waiting for someone to step up. Finally, Finn said, "Bu…" He swallowed harshly, "Burt said we should bury the bodies down the road somewhere."

Emma let out a low sob, then hiccuping slightly, she wiped her eyes, "I have bleach. And surely…surely there's some in the cabin?"

Mack stepped forward, "There's a shit ton of vehicles, even if we use some to move the bodies, there's still going to be too many to move our vehicles in unless we move them all."

"How are we going to move them? We don't have keys, and there's still the padlock on the gate," Sam asked.

"Hotwire 'em. I bet there's a key to the padlock in the house somewhere, probably hanging by a door or something."

Stiffly, they all started moving, except Kurt, who sat next to his father's body sobbing, a worried looking Blaine standing next to him.

* * *

"Rachel, are you paying attention?" Mack said nonchalantly.

"Of course I am, Mack. But as we did not find the key to the padlock, and therefore will not be removing the vehicles so that we can park ours in the driveway, I feel as though this is you attempting to avoid more grisly tasks," Rachel said with a sigh, wrapping her arms around herself and looking out from the small, older car they were sitting in. The others…well, the majority of them, Kurt was still with his father's body, while Terri and Mrs. Anderson had corralled the children back into Kendra's SUV to watch another movie, but the rest were dragging bodies to Puck's truck, clad in gloves and masks provided by Ms. Pillsbury. They had found a pair of heavy duty scissors, and had used those to cut the wire to make a slit in the fence they would repair once their horrible task was done.

It was going to take many trips with Puck's truck to get all the bodies removed.

"First, learning to hot wire is a useful as fuck skill, especially now. What if you end up lost and need to get the fuck away? You think you're just going to find a car with keys in it? I mean, maybe…but chances are the previous owner is going to be in it still, and trying to eat your face. Second, after we're done with this, we're going to get in my van and go see if there's someplace we can stash those bodies. We only found two shovels, it's gonna take us days to dig and fill in a hole," Mack said, pulling back from under the underside of the car.

"Alright, tell me which wires," Mack stared at Rachel pointedly.

Hesitantly, Rachel reached down and pointed. "Those are the battery wires."

Mack grinned, "Yup. Now what are the other wires?"

Rachel pointed again, "Those are the starter wires, and those are the ignition wires."

"Yes! Now start the car Berry." Mack hopped out the of driver's side, and looked pointedly at Rachel.

With another sigh, Rachel scooted over. She picked up the small knife Mack left on the dash, and carefully peeled back the plastic on the battery wires, before twisting the metal together. Then she did the same with the starter wire. Looking at Mack for a quick second, then back at the wires, she held them together carefully.

The car started.

Mack grinned at her again.

"Good job. What's the most important thing to remember?"

Rachel turned the car off, and turned towards Mack, "The older the cars are, the better. Oh, and I might need to jam a screwdriver in to unlock the steering lock if brute force doesn't work. "

Mack nodded, "Yeah. Also, new rule. Always check the backseat in case there's zombies." She snorted, then nodded towards the driveway gate. "Let's go check out what's around." Rachel stepped out of the car, and followed Mack to her van, still loaded with the totes and other items.

They drove down the mountain, turning into each of the driveways they had seen on the drive up. It was all nice cabins of various sizes. Nothing like what Mack had in mind, whatever it was.

They were almost off the mountain when Mack turned into the next driveway.

"Hell yeah, finally some good luck!" Mack said, hitting the steering wheel in excitement as she parked the car.

"This is indeed fortuitous," Rachel agreed as she stepped out of the car. It was a construction site to build yet another fancy cabin on the mountain. More specifically, there was a tractor that would make handling the bodies easier. Rachel didn't quite approve of burying the bodies in a mass grave, but even with the tractor it would be difficult and time consuming to bury each body separately. "Will you be able to hot wire the tractor?"

Mack bounded up to the tractor, and rummaged around the seat, before holding up a key. "Maybe? Luckily there was a spare here," She climbed up, and sat in the seat. At Rachel's look, Mack said, "May as well get the hole dug why we're here Berry."

Rachel looked steadily at her, "Now I am quite certain you simply want to avoid the task of moving the bodies. Can you even properly work that? "

Mack nodded, so Rachel added softly, "Perhaps you could dig three separate holes for Mr. Schue, Burt, and Carole? It would be…nice for them to at least have their own grave."

Mack said, "I'll try. Probably won't be pretty, but I'm sure I can." Then she cranked on the tractor.

Rachel sighed in relief. As Mack started testing out the controls, Rachel turned around, and went to sit back in the car, wondering what they were going to do after they were done with the clean up. She didn't like not having a purpose, and was not sure that "survive" was enough.

* * *

They had finished moving the last of the bodies to the hole from the truck.

Quinn wasn't the only one trying not to gag.

Finally, eventually, the bodies were in the hole. Then it was time to put Mr. Schue, Mr. Hummel, and Carole in their graves.

Quinn still didn't know what had happened in the cabin to cause Mr. Schue to die, but, judging from his body, it had probably been painful. A deep sliver of hurt went through her, and she wondered why. It's not like she had expected his death to be painless and quiet, but knowing that, then looking at proof were two different things.

"We…we should perhaps sing something, I think Mr. Schue would have liked that, " Rachel said eventually.

Finn punched the tree he was standing next to. He turned to the shocked group and said, "He'd probably like not being dead and seeing his baby be born more. Damn it. Why'd this have to happen?"

Quinn ignored the jealousy the rose up when Rachel went to comfort Finn, and carefully didn't look at the couple.

No one made an attempt to finish moving the last three bodies. Quinn was just about to suggest they do just that, that they do something, when Tina's clear, sweet voice came out as Tina started singing.

"Johnny's daddy was taking him fishin'

When he was eight years old

A little girl came through the front gate holdin' a fishing pole

His dad looked down and smiled, said we can't leave her behind

Son I know you don't want her to go but someday you'll change your mind

And Johnny said "Take Jimmy Johnson, take Tommy Thompson, take my best friend Bo

Take anybody that you want as long as she don't go

Take any boy in the world

Daddy please don't take the girl"

Every one of the present New Direction members, current and former, even a tentative Rachel, joined in for the chorus, but no one made an attempt to try to edge in on Tina's solo. It was a little bit weird to be singing this song, Quinn was sure she could come up with ten songs that would have been more appropriate but somehow, she decided, it fit Tina. A sliver of regret went through her, they should have given Tina more solos, should have let her have her moments in the spotlight.

When Tina finished the last line, she looked down, clearly a little surprised she had sung the whole song, and clearly waiting for someone to say something mean about the song choice.

Quinn's throat felt dry as she stared at Mr. Schue's body, she swallowed tightly, then said, "That was…" she started, hesitating while she tried to find the words to say what she meant, "lovely Tina. I think Mr. Schue and the others would have liked it."

"I agree with Quinn, " Rachel beamed at Tina from where she stood with her arms wrapped around Finn, "Mr. Schue would have no doubt said it was an unconventional choice, but you sang it well, and it was perfectly lovely."

Quinn tuned out the other people that had nice things to say to Tina about the song. Eventually, they stood in silence. Finally, Quinn stepped forward, putting her hands around one of Mr. Schue's ankles, already wishing she hadn't looked at it.

"We…we need to finish getting them in the ground," she stated, daring anyone to argue. Sam and Santana went to her side to help with Mr. Schue's body.

Once his body was in his grave, Finn grabbed a handful of dirt, "Um…I'm sorry Mr. Schue…you were a good guy, I mean sometimes you did dumb things but you meant well. I'm sorry you died, and I wish this was all just a bad dream," Finn finished, throwing the dirt on top of his body.

Kurt picked up a handful of dirt too, frowning, and said, "Mercedes's, we didn't find your body so I'm hoping your with Shane and his family, or with Sugar but we did find your suitcase soo…." he sighed, the continued, "You were my first and best best friend, and I'm sorry I was so caught up in being bffs with Rachel and my relationship with Blaine that I kinda let our relationship slide a little. Thank you for telling me you understood, and always answering my texts. I wish we had gone to the mall together the day this started, then...maybe…" he finished with a hitch in his throat, threw the dirt into the mass grave.

One by one, the others picked up a handful of dirt and threw it on Mr. Schue's body.

Some of them spoke out loud, but most, like Quinn, kept it internal. She didn't have anything to say to Mr. Schue except to apologize for being so bitchy.

Next was Burt's body.

"Kurt, would you like to sing something?" Rachel asked him gently. Teary, Kurt shook his head, "I already said my goodbyes to him privately," he whispered, cuddling up into Blaine.

Finally, it was Carole's body. Sam said, "Uh, Finn, did you want your mom's rings or necklace?"

Finn turned towards them, "I…yeah, I think so. " He moved towards them, and Sam held out a hand.

"Dude…trust me, you don't want to see her body. Just let me get them, okay?" Sam looked at Finn, pleading.

"No I…I need to see her."

"Finn," Quinn whispered, "You really shouldn't. " Finn's mother had been torn apart and ate so badly that she wasn't much more than half a head on a one armed torso.

In answer, Finn shouldered his way past them. He stopped, and stood there in shock.

Quinn wished he hadn't seen it. She wished none of them had, that the bodies had turned to ash or something so they didn't have to do this.

She wished this was a nightmare she'd wake up from when Finn fell to his knees, and started crying, as the guilt rose in her.

"What…what happened to her? How'd this happen to her?" He demanded to know between sobs, gasping for breath through the tears and words.

Quinn stomach twisted, but she can't bring herself to say anything, and she joins the others in silently looking at Finn as he breaks down.

After a few moments, Tina, obviously unable to take it anymore, said, "I'm sorry Finn. I tried to save her, I did, but I ended up needing saving too. If I had been quicker or stronger Quinn could have saved her, but I…I'm sorry."

Tina's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't break down sobbing. Quinn felt strangely proud of Tina as Sam reached over, and put a comforting hand on Tina's shoulder.

Finn turned towards Quinn, "You didn't save my mom?"

"Finn, Quinn's not Wonder Woman," Rachel said gently, "She tried to save them both, but she couldn't."

That didn't stop Finn from glaring at Quinn, and punching the tree again.

Sam slipped Carole's jewelry off, and tenderly, him and Puck placed her body in her grave.

Mack stepped away from the group, jingling the key to the tractor, she got in it and turned it on. They stepped aside, and watched her fill in the holes.

No one said anything for a long moment, before, quietly, Santana started singing.

_"Sorry, I've never told you, all I wanted to say_

_And now it's too late to hold you_

_'Cause you've flown away_

_So far away_

_Never had I imagined_

_Living without your smile_

_Feelin' and knowing you, hear me_

_It keeps me alive, alive"_

One by one, starting with Brittany, the rest of them joined her, even the Mack who looked worn out, but amused and Jacob Ben Israel who mostly mouthed the words and leered at the girls.

Santana finished the last lines by herself.

_"Sorry I never told you_

_All I wanted to say"_

Santana wiped away the tears that had fallen silently down her face as they sang, as did some of the others. Startled, Quinn realized a few tears had escaped, and wiped away them from her face.

Puck was _looking_ at her, tenderly, and she wanted to go hide in the woods.

Ms. Pillsbury lead the way, Terri trailing behind her, back to the cars. They stood there in a group watching as Mack used the tractor and covered the bodies.

Once Mack parked the tractor, and joined them, Ms. Pillsbury took a deep breath.

"Now that the...bodies are taken care of, we'll clean. We'll start with the attic and work our way down," Quinn watched Ms. Pillsbury's fingers twitch as she talked, "We might have to pull up carpet, or throw away things, but I am confident that with enough bleach it will be habitable in time to make dinner tonight."

"Do you think we could shower when we get back?" Blaine asked, looking at himself with a frown.

Ms. Pillsbury shook her head, "No showering until we're done cleaning. If," She looked at Puck pointedly, "You're too…gore covered, change clothing."

She turned towards Mr. Schue's car, and got in. Quinn and the others followed. Quinn piled into Mack's Van with Sam, Tina, Brittany, Mack, and Santana.

Quinn wrapped her arms around herself, and tried to ignore how disgusting she felt, how tired she was, and how uncomfortable it was in the back of the van. She told consoled herself that in a few more hours, the cabin would be cleaned, she'd be clean, and she could sleep.

Next to her, Tina shuffled restlessly. Quinn hadn't heard the black haired girl speak all day, so her singing was a surprise, but then again no one really was talking much.

So it was a shock when Tina looked at Quinn and, said "Quinn. You saved me. Why? I didn't care if I died, I wanted to be with Mike and now Finn's Mom is dead and I just…I don't understand why. Why me Quinn? I'm always ignored in favor of everyone else, why did somebody finally pick me?" then burst into tears.

At Tina's outburst, Sam and Santana stopped the quiet discussion they were having about Tiffany's clothes being a bit too small for Stacy, but maybe some of the clothes out of the many suitcases that were apparently in the house would fit Stacy better until they could go out in a few days.

Quinn looked at Tina for a moment, before finally she said, "I was going to save you both. I thought you'd be able to help me save Carole, you were doing pretty well there but…" she sighed, "I wasn't fast enough," she finished lamely.

Tina wiped away her tears and looked at Quinn seriously again.

"You're alive, that's all that matters now," Mack said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah. Do you think Mike would have wanted you to…be with him? He'd want you to do your best to grow old Tina, so would your parents. Like, I know my parents would be pissed off at me if I decided to just…give up, you know? Even if…even if something happened to Stevie and Stacy," Sam added, concentrating hard on a spot on the windshield.

"I…know. It's just so hard. He saved me. I loved him so much…he was the best thing to happen to me. And now I have no one," Tina said, looking as though she was going to burst into tears again.

"You've got us Tina," Santana said. Next to them, Brittany an arm around the crying girl, "And Lord Tubbington really likes you."

Quinn wished she had words of wisdom to spout to Tina, words that would make the pain go away and everything back to normal. The best she could do was add her assurances to Santana's that Tina had them, that she wasn't alone.

By the time they parked the car Tina looked like she felt a little better. Quinn, if anything, felt worse. Guilt twisted her insides, because she couldn't stop thinking about how much more useful having a trained nurse would be over Tina. Was that what she was reduced to already, not even a week into the apocalypse and she was categorizing people based on how useful they would be?

* * *

Quinn rubbed the towel through her damp hair, glad to finally be clean. It had taken hours to finish cleaning the cabin. When they were done, they had hosed off outside, then took turns for actual showers. Thankfully the cabin had three bathrooms, so no one had to wait that long.

The clothes they were wearing tossed in a pile to be burned later.

Terri had took it upon herself to make dinner while everyone else cleaned up, while Mrs. Anderson kept watching the kids. Quinn was almost as hungry as she was tired. She quickly got dressed, and headed downstairs to the dining room where almost everyone was gathered, squeezed around the huge table that almost sat them all comfortably.

She sat in the place Britt motioned to, and ate.

She smiled down at Beth, and cooed and offered her some green beans, which the toddler eyed warily, but eventually accepted one.

Quinn wasn't really paying attention to the various conversations around the table until Terri announced that her, Emma, and Kyle would be sharing the master bedroom.

The voices went silence, until the floodgates opened.

"Rachel and I get our own room," Finn said in his "I'm the leader and you'll listen to me voice".

"Then Blaine and I get our own room," Kurt added, daring anyone to argue.

"Well, if those couples get their own room," Santana drawled nonchalantly, "then Britt and I get our own room," clearly stating it as a fact, in a no nonsense voice. Quinn figured her and Brittany were probably the only ones who noticed how Santana's hands were clenched under the table, that she was clearly nervous about saying that -_admitting_ that, in front of everyone. Brittany reached over and held Santana's hand, and Quinn shot the other girl a smile.

"So what are us single people supposed to do, share the living room or attic? " The Mack asked, glaring at the trio, "Yeah, that's super fair. We're crammed in there, while you guys have your comfy private love nests. Pass."

Everyone turned to Emma, who was busy polishing her spoon with her napkin and she didn't notice for a second. Terri gently poked the redhead's shoulder with a frown, and Emma dropped the spoon, staring at it for a moment, before looking at everyone wide eyed.

"I think you are all able to sort this fairly amongst yourselves," she finally said, "I'm going to get started on the dishes." She then stood up, and walked to the kitchen leaving them there, Terri sighed, and followed after her.

Blaine murmured something to Kurt, causing the other boy to frown, then said, "The…Mack is correct, it's not really fair. "

"Well, if the Gay Winklevii Twin's are okay with not having a private room, then I guess BrittBritt and I are too, " Santana conceded with a shrug.

"Rachel and I are going to get married, so we need our own room," Finn said, with a frown, then turned to Rachel, "I mean, I love you, you love me, there's really no reason not to right?"

Quinn felt like she was going to be sick, until she saw the look on Rachel's face. "Finn….oh. I suppose we have no reason not to get married. But, um, after we are married, perhaps we could move into the attic or build our own little cabin, or convert the garage," Rachel tentatively suggested, "but it isn't quite fair to take up an entire room to ourselves."

The pair whispered to each other, before, with a sigh, Finn said, "Fine."

Quinn picked at the few bites left on her plate as discussion moved to splitting up the rooms. She found herself -with Beth, sharing with Brittany, Santana, Tiffany, and Sarah. Which was okay with her, even if Mack was giving her a look.

* * *

"Mrs. Anderson," Rachel said gently. Once Rachel had showered, changed, and ate, she'd felt a hundred times better. Even if she felt a hum of disappointment at how Finn had just proposed to her in front of everyone like that. Without talking to her about it before hand. Without even an attempt at_ romance._ Which was silly, given the circumstances, but Rachel could not help feeling how she felt. And it was a relief to be feeling something besides utter despair at her father's deaths, sadness at the fact that her Broadway dreams were likely very much dead (she still could not stop herself from hoping there was still a chance), and her confusion about Quinn.

"Mrs. Anderson?" Rachel repeated gently. Finally, the blonde woman turned towards her questioningly. "I was just going to offer to watch Dahlia while you showered and rested, if you like?"

The not so much older woman blinked at Rachel, then nodded, and in one swift movement pulled the baby and sling off herself, and handed her to Rachel. Rachel cooed at Dahlia, then looked up to ask Mrs. Anderson when she'd like Dahlia back, if Rachel needed to feed her, if there was a pumped breast milk bottle waiting, or if it was okay to use formula, and when the infants last diaper change was…only to find that Mrs. Anderson had left already.

Rachel frowned, but quickly decided Mrs. Anderson must have been rather tired, and of course Mr. Anderson had died just yesterday, so it was to be expected that Mrs. Anderson needed some time to herself.

* * *

Rachel had swaddled Dahlia, fed her, burped her, and changed her. She couldn't understand why the baby wouldn't stop crying. Admittedly, her attempts were amateur at best, but with time -and surely they had a lot of time now, in this safe haven, and naturally Rachel would help out Mrs. Anderson as much as she could, Rachel would get better.

Perhaps, she mused, she knows her father is dead. Tentatively, she hummed a lullaby her fathers had sang to her when she was younger. She couldn't bring herself to sing by herself, just yet, and she didn't wish to interrupt anyone's sleep more than her and Dahlia already were anyway.

It was late. Rachel wasn't sure how late, but it was certainly past midnight by some time. Rachel had taken the smallest bedroom with The Mack and Tina, donating the top bunk to Sam and his siblings, who had taken the small office to share. It was a very…tight squeeze to fit all three of them into the bed, but they had managed. At least until Dahlia had started crying off and on from her makeshift bed in a dresser drawer. Mrs. Anderson was sharing with Ms. Pillsbury and Terri and Terri's nephew in the master bedroom, but Rachel had felt it was best if the baby stayed with her, and give Mrs. Anderson a night of rest.

Mrs. Anderson and Mr. Anderson hadn't gathered as many things for the infant that Rachel would have thought they would have grabbed. But perhaps they had thought they'd be home soon, or perhaps that they'd be able to acquire more things later.

With a sigh, Rachel resumed rubbing soothing circles into Dahlia's back, something she had seen Quinn do with Beth, and gently walked her back and forth.

Out of respect for her roommates, the third time Rachel had dragged herself out of bed to see to Dahlia, (the Mack and Tina both immediately moving to take up the now freed space, neither opened their eyes but Rachel knew they were awake,) she had collected her unused sleeping bag and the baby's diaper bag, and went up to the attic. She doubted the Mack and Tina were the only ones who were getting their sleep interrupted.

With the humming, back rubbing, and walking Dahlia quieted down a little, not crying her lungs out, but softly whimpering.

Rachel day dreamed of large, unshared bed with fluffy pillows and a crisp white down comforter as she robotically walked and rubbed and hummed.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Blaine said, "Rachel?"

She gasped, then turned to him, "Blaine? Did she wake you? I had hoped up here everyone could sleep better than if I took your sister up here."

Clad in a pair of silk pajama bottoms, but a Dalton Academy PE t-shirt instead of the matching top, his hair fluffy and ruffled from his pillow, Blaine leaned against the wall, watching Rachel for a moment.

"No, I didn't really sleep, just kinda dozed in and out." Catching her questioning eye on his t-shirt, he sighed and added, "I haven't been able to get a hold of any of my friends from Dalton," he said, rubbing a hand through his hair, "None of them were happy I switched schools, but I know if they could text me back, they would have. So, I..." he gestured to the shirt, looking at his sister as his words trailed away.

"I understand Blaine, " Rachel smiled tiredly at him. After a few moments of silence, Rachel resumed her walking, trying to coerce Dahlia into sleeping for the rest of the night.

"I think…I think you put her down to sleep too late," Blaine finally offered up, "I…didn't exactly keep up with the schedule Blossom and the nanny had her on, but I could probably remember enough to help you while you watch her. I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier, and I'm sorry Blossom didn't really…tell you anything before she went to sleep."

Rachel looked down at Dahlia, and was confidant the infant would likely not resume crying her heart out, and sat next to Blaine, offered his sister to him.

He took the baby gently, and held her reverently. Dahlia actually smiled at him.

She had been up most of the night with Dahlia, and not one smile. Blaine comes in, and holds her for a moment...Rachel felt a surge of envy.

"I do not blame your step-mother for being too tired to-" Rachel stopped, sighed, and reluctantly continued, "Well, perhaps I blame her a little, she has a child and should be focused on her, no matter how much she's in mourning, or how tired she is. But I am confident that tomorrow she will be well rested and will not need anyone to watch Dahlia longer then it will take her to shower, and perhaps have a nap if needed. I doubt that someone will be me, as I do not believe Dahlia likes me." There was just, Rachel thought mournfully, something about her that made people, even babies, dislike her.

"I…I think she likes you Rachel. Really," Blaine said, giving Rachel an earnest look, "She's been fussy the last few nights, I think because her schedule's been thrown off and she wasn't used to spending so much time with Blossom and no time with her nanny," Blaine sighed, and gently caressed Dahlia's face with his pinky, "The Nanny…her name was Maria, and she was…lovely. She…" Blaine looked at the wall, then back at Rachel, "I think she loved Dahlia more than Blossom." He sighed again, "Dad wanted her to come with us, but she said she was going to her family to a base. She begged us to go with her, and…and I think she was going to take Dahlia with her, but Mr. Hummel and Kurt got there before she could. I wonder if she made it to her parents place…"

"I'm sure she did," Rachel said gently.

They chatted for a few more minutes more, about easy subjects, like things Dahlia needed, (Rachel was going to write down a list tomorrow after consulting with Mrs. Anderson, there was whispers of a looting trip soon,) before Blaine insisted it was his turn with Dahlia and Rachel went to bed. Rachel was glad for the rest. She wished for nothing more, as she stepped into their room, then a bed.

Of course, if she was wishing she thought ruely as she curled up next to the Mack, pushing against the girl lightly to make enough space, she may as well add that she was thirty, an EGOT winner, and her very alive, very healthy dad's lived in the mansion next to hers.

* * *

Quinn curled up in bed, the blankets pile high around her, Beth sleeping fitfully next to her. Next to the wall on Beth's other side, Sarah slept. Even in the dim light coming in from the hallway, Quinn could see the frown on Beth's face, and the fluttering of Sarah's eyelids.

Above them, on the top bunk, Brittany and Santana slept. Santana's fisted hand hung over the side of the bed. Quinn could hear Brittany's soft snores. (Tiffany had insisted on sleeping on the floor, so Brittany had made her a bed of blankets, and Quinn could hear Lord Tubbington purring next to the blonde girl. )

The blankets felt almost as heavy as her eyes, but despite being so exhausted, she couldn't sleep. Through the open bedroom door, she could just barely make out the pile of suitcases, backpacks, and duffle bags that belonged to the Jones family, and their guests. It was one of many piles around the house, and Emma had said something about sorting through them for any useful clothing and items in a few days.

The very thought made Quinn want to throw up again. She smacked her pillow, and wiggled a little trying to get more comfortable; probably it'd be a good idea to set Beth up in her portable crib tomorrow night, it was_ really_ uncomfortable with the three of them.

The Jones's were dead. It felt…_wrong_ to sit in their house, and talk about rifling through their belongings for useful things. This was all just…wrong. She sighed, and wrapped an arm around Beth. At least there was one thing in all this that felt right.

* * *

A/N:

Song is One Sweet Day by Mariah Carey &amp; Boyz II Men.


	10. Where's Your Head At

_Quinn stared in shock. Next to a happily playing Beth, Shelby stood. Quinn opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Shelby just stood next to Beth and glared._

_Shaking her head, Shelby picked up Beth. Quinn felt a snap of jealously as Beth happily said, "Mommy!" and hugged Shelby._

_Puck walked towards the mother-daughter pair, and put an arm around Shelby, and leaned in and kissed Beth's forehead, prompting Beth to say, "Da!" and wave the wooden block she still had clinched in her hand at him._

_"What...what's going on?" Quinn finally found the words to ask, half stepping towards the trio._

_"We're taking Beth, Quinn. You weren't fit to be her mother then, you certainly aren't now," Shelby said, pursing her lips and frowning at Quinn in a way that reminded Quinn of Rachel._

_"Sorry, but you just aren't mother material. It was a good thing you gave Beth up to Shelby," Puck shrugged, and gave Shelby a kiss on the check, "Me and the MILF here are going to take off with Beth to Wright Patterson. We should have done it in the first place, going to the cabin was a stupid idea, I can't believe anyone like, went along with it. Everyone's coming with us."_

_"Wha...what about me?" Quinn asked, despair rising up in her._

_"You aren't invited. What you did to Shelby? You're a horrible person, and you can't be trusted around anyone, let alone a toddler, or the other kids," Puck replied, pulling Shelby closer and glaring at Quinn._

_"Please Puck, you can't take Beth with you. I'm sorry, I am, " Quinn said, tears falling and a hitch in her words, "Rachel forgave me for it, can't you? I'd never hurt Beth or the other kids Puck. You know me."_

_"Why should Rachel's forgiveness mean anything Quinn," Shelby said snidely, "I gave birth to her, but I wasn't her mother."_

_"Please...please..." Quinn said, wrapping her arms around herself, "Please let me say good bye to her...to Santana...to Brittany...Rachel...the Mack...please! Just goodbye, at least."_

_"No. You'll never see Beth again, or any of your friends or Rachel, Quinn, " Shelby said, laughing, and stepping to block Quinn's view of Beth._

_"Sorry Quinn, but Shelby's made up her mind. And I don't blame her, really. You did murder her," Puck said with a shrug, and also moved to block Quinn's view of the happy toddler._

_Quinn cried so hard it felt like she couldn't breathe, tears falling down her face. Eventually, the tears stopped._

_"Why...why haven't you left yet?" She asked, the words heavy and hard to say._

_Neither of them answered her. Quinn blinked, and realized Puck and Shelby weren't standing anymore, but kneeling on the ground over Beth._

_With a sudden realization, she realized Beth wasn't cooing and making happy noises anymore. There was a sound, but what that sound was she couldn't remember, just that it made her whole self ache with terror._

_Quinn stepped forward towards the trio, each step feeling as though her feet weighted a hundred pounds each, and the earth was suddenly heavy mud, trying its hardest to keep her in place._

_Slowly, oh so slowly, she walked towards them._

_As she got closer, it felt like the air was getting thicker. She was five feet away when Shelby and Puck turned towards her._

_They were zombies. How hadn't she noticed they were zombies, before? Did she just imagine them talking to her? Where were the others? She hoped Puck and Shelby being zombies would everyone change their mind about leaving her._

_Beth. If they were zombies, Quinn had to get to Beth now more than ever. She didn't want to ever have to worry that her baby was dead, again._

_A stream of blood wept down from the bullet hole in Shelby's head. How was she still alive if she had been shoot in the head, Quinn wondered, panic going through her._

_A dribble of fresh blood went down Puck's mouth, and it was so unlike the blackish fluid that had been leaking from Puck's mouth before that Quinn stared._

_Suddenly, the fog in her brain cleared, and Quinn remembered what the sound was._

_Eating. Loud, lip smacking obnoxious eating._

_She let out a sob, as Shelby and Puck's zombiefied figures stared at her, grinning gruesomely. Silently, they moved away from where they had been kneeling._

_Quinn blinked, and realized she didn't have her contacts or glasses on. Everything was blurry. Why hadn't she noticed that before?_

_She couldn't see what was left of Beth, every time she tried to focus on that spot her eyes, against her will, would go somewhere else._

_She fell to her knees, and screamed, then started silently crying._

_Quinn_

_She heard a voice calling her name, but ignored it._

_Quinn. More voices joined the first._

_Quinn._

"Quinn," Sarah's voice said softly as Quinn woke up with a start, her heart beating wildly, "Quinn...are you okay?"

Quinn didn't answer, and it took her a few seconds to realize it had been a dream. Just a dream. A nightmare.

"I had a nightmare Sarah," she finally murmured, "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry. I…why is it wet?" She wiggled, disguised.

"No, I was already awake. And um, I think Beth wet the bed?" Sarah said, voice still tinged with worry, "Santana's still sleeping."

"I _was_ sleeping, Baby Puck," Santana's voice called from the top bunk. Santana's sock covered feet swung into view as she started climbing down the bunk beds ladder, wincing at her knee. Quinn had tried to insist the pair take the bottom bunk, but Santana refused. Quinn was concerned that she was only making her knee worse, but there wasn't really anything she could do if Santana wasn't going to listen.

The rooms had eventually been divided up so that The Mack, Rachel, and Tina took the smallest bedroom, and Kurt, Jacob, Blaine, and Finn took the second biggest room, while Sam offered to share the tiny office with his siblings if they could get a bed in there.

All the bedrooms except the master had bunk beds, so that made things a little easier on everyone, even if there were a few obviously unhappy people.

"Ewwww," Santana said rolling her eyes at Quinn. Beth took that moment to start screaming. Sighing, Quinn got out of bed, grabbed Beth and headed to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Quinn set a still upset Beth down in the tub, stripped the toddler's pj's and soaked through diaper off, and took a moment to take a quick second to pee. Feeling a little better, Quinn washed her hands, picked up Beth, and turned on the tub, shoving the stopper in after she adjusted the nozzle to warm water. She set Beth back in the tub, stripped, and sat in the tub with her.

It wasn't easy, but Quinn managed to get both of them clean and wrapped up in a towel each, and back into their room with only one grin from Jacob Ben Israel, (she glared witheringly at him as she passed by him, and he blanched.)

By now, Beth was still obviously grumpy, but to Quinn's gratefulness, the toddler wasn't screaming anymore. The bedroom was empty, so after she closed the door, she set the towel clad toddler down on the floor and quickly dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt. Then she wrangled Beth into a new diaper and a pair of jeans, socks, t-shirt and a hoodie. She stood for a moment looking at how cute her daughter was. She ran a brush through her hair, then Beth's.

Handing Beth a couple of toy's to occupy herself with, Quinn, with a frown, gathered up the wet towels, sheets and blankets and closing the door behind her, went to the bathroom to get her and Beth's clothes. She quickly made her way to the laundry room on the first floor, and ignoring the sound of everyone in the kitchen, dining room, or living room, stood in from of the washer and dryer. She opened the washer, and pulled out the almost dry, musty clothes that were inside it. Swallowing heavily, she realized it was probably clothes from the Jones's, or their guests. Ignoring the pang of sadness, she set them on the washer, and shoved the sheets and blankets inside. She added soap (noting that the box was almost empty,) and started it up, heading back to the room.

There, she found Beth had halfway wiggled out of her hoodie, and was busy happily tearing the pages out of a book that had been left in the room.

Sighing, she put her contacts in, then she picked up the toddler, and went back downstairs, Beth wiggling in protest the entire way.

She noticed Ms. Pillsbury was sitting at the largest couch in the living room, taking up half of it sorting through a pile of suit cases and bags around.

Deciding not even to bother saying anything, she made her way through the kitchen (and judging by the mess in the kitchen, the group had decided to just make what they wanted instead of a group meal,) and into the dining room. "Morning," Brittany said, giving her a wave from next to Santana "I made us breakfast," she gestured to the full pot with oatmeal, and a small plate of bacon sitting next to her.

"Thanks Britt," Quinn murmured. She spooned a little oatmeal for Beth, and herself and started picking at it. Unlike Beth, who was gleefully flinging oatmeal around until Quinn took the spoon from her, and started feeding her. Brittany smiled at her, and nudged the plate with the remaining bacon on it towards her. Smiling at Brittany, Quinn started enthusiastically eating the bacon.

Mack came over, plopping in the chair next to Quinn, setting a cup of coffee next to Quinn's hand, and started sipping her own coffee.

Quinn sipped at it, and muttered, "Thanks," to Mack. It was just the way Quinn liked it. Mack nodded, and swiped a piece of Quinn's bacon, before leaning back and fiddling with her phone with a frown.

Quinn concentrated on eating, and feeding Beth, tuning out the various conversations going on around her. Soon, her revere was interrupted by Rachel entering the dining room, Finn hot on her trail. Biting her lip, Quinn glanced at Rachel as long as she dared, clutching the spoon so hard her finger tips turned white. Now that they were safe…she snorted. Rachel was with Finn, and that was that, she needed to stop thinking anything else was going to happen between them. She needed to move on.

* * *

"Finn," Rachel said calmly, "I am giving Mrs. Anderson time to rest and grieve. It is not as though there is anything else to do at the moment, I certainly cannot take my dance and voice classes, nor my many extracurricular act ivies. I suppose we could attempt glee club, but it seems heartless to do so with Mr. Schue, and most likely all our competition dead."

Finn frowned in that way that Rachel hated; he looked mildly constipated. "Look, Blaine can take the baby then. Rachel, you should be spending your time with…me," he said, trying to raise his eyebrows meaningfully when he said 'me,' and giving her his most seductive smile. She cringed inwardly; she loved it when he was sappy, cute and romantic, but his 'seductive' face was…not cute.

"Blaine," Rachel shifted Dahlia as she checked the bottle, then made her way from the kitchen to the dining room, "Was up with Dahlia far later then I was. I am happy to watch her Finn, we have time, we will certainly be able to find a moment alone at some point, there's no need to _rush,_"

"We're going to go out for supplies and stuff Rachel, it'll be dangerous. You don't know what could happen out there," He pointed out, sitting next to her grumpily.

"I believe we have all that we need for the moment, and there is no huge rush to go out there. It's quite possible those things will die out soon," Rachel said, remembering a man's words in the hotel room, concentrating on feeding Dahlia her bottle. She didn't quite believe that, but she was starting to get tired of Finn's whining and the pressure he was putting on her.

"Maybe. But we need to go out in a few days, we were talking about it. Get some games for the system in the living room. Plus I bet everyone can think of stuff they'd like to have that we could get. And it's not a bad idea to get more food just in case," Finn frowned again, "Rachel, I could _die._ I don't want to die without…" he leaned closer, "Without you know with you," he whispered.

"Finn Hudson, _I will not be pressured!_ If you die because you don't have enough video games…How dare you use death to get into my pants," She spat at him, standing up. Glaring, she moved next to the free seat next to the Mack.

"Rachel," Finn whined.

Glaring at him harder, she said, as calmly as she could, "Finn, I am very upset with you right now. I do not wish to speak to you anymore."

"Geeze, you're_ impossible,_ talk to me when you feel like acting like a grown up," Finn rolled his eyes, and stomped off.

Rachel sighed, and double checked that the bottle was the correct temperature, started feeding Dahlia. The infant wiggled contently, her blue eyes staring at Rachel, in what Rachel hoped was happiness. When the baby was halfway done with the bottle, she set it down, and started spooning a mixture of formula and baby cereal into the baby's mouth, who gummed on it happily for a few bites, before Rachel switched back to the formula. Once the baby was done, she set the bottle down and just gazed at the baby, who started babbling. Rachel mouthed a few words at her, then looked to see if Blaine was in here yet to take the baby after his shower. He wasn't, so she contented herself with playing peek a boo for a while.

After a few minutes, Mack stopped the quite conversation she was having with Quinn, and leaned towards her, "Hey, you gonna burp that kid?"

Rachel froze, then feeling her face flush red, said, "I neglected to remember that was required, thank you for reminding me Mack." Feeling awkward and inadequate, she burped the wiggly child. A small bit of white fluid, landed on her shoulder. She was grossed out, a bit, but given the sights and smells of the last few days, she merely sighed. Dahlia gazed at her, smiling. Rachel rummaged around the diaper bag she was wearing, and handed her a jangly toy, and used her napkin and a bit of water to clean up the spit up.

"So what, you the babysitter or something now?" Mack said, pushing her empty coffee cup away.

"I am merely giving Mrs. Anderson a chance to rest and mourn. She was used to having a nanny, this cannot be easy for her. Blaine will be taking over Dahlia's care shortly," Rachel replied a little more defensive then she had wanted to sound, but after Finn's whining she was in no mood to discuss this.

Mack raised her eyebrows at Rachel, then shrugged, "That's nice of you, I guess. We're," she nodded at Quinn, "Gonna go out for a run, check out the property in a few minutes, wanna come?"

Rachel thought carefully for a moment, then shook her head, "Not this time, thank you Mack. After Blaine takes over Dahlia's care, I would like to properly unpack. And I should speak to Finn," she finished with a sigh.

Mack snorted, "If you can get him away from the tv in the living room. They're in there acting like they haven't seen a tv in years."

"Well," Rachel said delicately, "It has been a ve-"

Mack held up her hand, "Save it Berry. You don't have to justify everything for everyone, it's okay."

Rachel flushed again, "I-" She stopped when Blaine came in and veered towards her and Dahlia, "Oh hello Blaine. Mack perhaps we can finish this conversation later?"

Mack raised her eyebrows at her, "No need."

Rachel watched Mack, and Quinn holding Beth leaving the dining room, not quite able to shake the feeling that she'd be judged and found wanting.

* * *

Quinn panted, and leaned up against a tree. They'd ran for a while; then Mack had perched on the grass and watched Quinn run around the property for a little while longer after that.

Her blood was pumping, she was super sweaty, and it was starting to drizzle rain on them.

Quinn felt amazing, so alive. She loved running. She even felt more relaxed.

"Come on Q, let's go inside," Mack said, looking at the grey cloud covered sky.

Quinn wiped her sweaty brow, and nodded.

They walked into the house together, and started going upstairs. Quinn spared a glance for Beth and Puck, still in the living room. Puck had the toddler (who looked _really_ grumpy, even while she slept, but Quinn was starting to think that was her default facial expression,) in the baby backpack while he played video games.

Quinn stopped.

She rushed forward to stand in front of the tv.

"Is that beer," Quinn hissed, putting her hands on her hips.

Puck picked up the bottle of beer, and took a swig off of it. "Yup. Stressful few days, we need to unwind." He shrugged. Angry, Quinn looked at Ms. Pillsbury, who was still busy on the other couch sorting through the suit cases and duffle bags. Feeling Quinn's eyes on her, Ms. Pillsbury looked up, saw the beer in Finn, Jacob and Puck's hands, but besides pursing her lips, she does nothing but resume her sorting.

Gritting her teeth, Quinn glared at Puck, "You can unwind after you aren't taking care of Beth. No beer while your with her Puck!"

"Cool it Baby Momma, " Puck gave her a lazy grin, and she can tell that he's had more than just that one beer by the glaze on his eyes, "You fed Beth, she's changed, she played for a while, and now she's napping on Daddy's chest. She's cool. We're cool, so don't be a bitch okay?"

Quinn felt herself practically vibrating with anger, and she stepped forward, only to be stopped by Mack.

Mack glared at Puck, "No more drinking when your with Beth. Quinn'll come get Beth in half an hour."

Puck laughed, "We'll see. And hey, Mack, you wanna start repopulating the world with me, you let me know okay? I bet we'd make some pretty babies."

Mack laughed bitterly at him, "Not even if you were the last dude alive. Come on Q," she pulled Quinn away before any of the boys could say anything.

They're in the hallway before Quinn rips herself away from Mack's grasp, "What the hell Mack?"

Mack cocked her head to the side, "You need time to shower, maybe unpack without Beth. She's taking a nap, and you'll get your kid before he's too drunk. It's been a fucked up couple of days, we all need some…" She shuffled, and shrugged, "Time, I guess."

Angry, but knowing that Mack was probably right, Quinn turned on her heel towards the bathroom.

* * *

Quinn pulled the trash bag full of Beth's things through the house. She glared at Puck as she passed the living room, who was definitely drinking way too much for her to be comfortable for him to be taking care of her daughter. She barely restrained herself from saying something to him, on the basis that it'd be easier to unpack and set up Beth's things without her. Gritting her teeth, she lugged the bag up the stairs, relieved when she finally got to her room.

Quickly, mechanically, she unpacked the fold up travel play pen, and set it up in a corner of the room, taking a few frustrating minutes to figure out how it worked. She added a set of sheets, blankets, a few soft toys, some and several hard books to it, then took out the top of it that had a sleeping area, leaving just the play area. The rest of Beth's things were put neatly in the drawer in the dresser they'd agreed was Beth's, or stacked neatly on top of the dresser, or simply left in the grocery tote bags and shoved under the bed along with Beth's suitcase still full of clothing and other odds and ends Shelby had packed.

Swiftly, she searched her mind for anything that she should do now, before she collected her daughter from Puck.

Nothing.

So she stomped downstairs and gathered up the toddler who had been playing with the boy's empty beer bottles.

Ignoring Beth's cries of anger at being picked up, or taken away from the bottles, Quinn brought her into their room, and set her in the playpen. Beth frowned for a few moments more, but then started playing with the toys. Quinn sat on their bed staring at the wall for a few minutes, before remembering they still needed new sheets and blankets. Groaning, she stood up and went to find new sheets and blankets, leaving the door open behind her so she could hear if Beth had a problem.

* * *

Yawning, Quinn spooned food into Beth's mouth, then to herself.

Terri had taken it upon herself to make dinner, and while Quinn was grateful (Brittany had been doing most of the cooking for their room, everyone had broken up into mini tribes when it came to food,) she had a suspicion that Terri had only done it to get out of cleaning the kitchen, which was a total mess.

Quinn wondered why Terri had bothered, when it was likely that Ms. Pillsbury was going to clean it _anyway,_ but whatever.

Now that the danger of zombies was practically gone, they were safe, Quinn was a little bored. _Everyone_ was. Maybe it wasn't boredom, maybe it was the antsy feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next. Whatever.

Finn, Puck and Jacob had spent most of the day being useless, playing video games, and drinking. Not that anyone else had a claim on being useful, (in fact Quinn was pretty sure the only one who had done anything remotely helpful besides cooking was Ms. Pillsbury,) but no one else was downing the sole twenty four pack of beer on the property like it was water and they were dehydrated. Sam had a single beer with them, and so had Santana, so it wasn't like they'd drank the whole pack by themselves (and she was sure it hadn't been full in the first place.) But still.

Puck, looking a lot more sober then he had all day in the moments Quinn would glare at him as she walked past the living, stood up towards the end of the meal.

"We're outta beer," He grinned at them, "So it's time to leave the cabin, and go check out a town. Harkerville's too small, so we're gonna go a few hours past that to Athena. Found some note pads in the office, so everyone write down anything you want and the team that heads out will do their best. Put the crap you absolutely need to have at the top of your list in case we can't get anything," he looked at Kurt, "Be specific."

"Who's going out," asked Mack.

Puck shrugged, "Me, Finn, whoever else wants to. Gotta leave people here to take care of the kids, besides Terri and Blossom, " he looked briefly up at the ceiling, where Mrs. Anderson was in bed. She hadn't left the bed all day, leaving Rachel and Blaine to take care of her daughter. In fact, Quinn was pretty sure Mrs. Anderson hadn't even held her daughter since they got here. "No injured people, " he added with a smirk at Santana, who glowered at him.

"When?" Asked Rachel, with a concerned look at Finn that made Quinn's insides twist.

"Day after tomorrow. Early. Don't expect to be back for, I dunno, a few days," Puck shrugged.

"I'm going," Sam said with a frown, looking at his siblings.

"So am I," Mack said with a lazy smile.

"I am too," Quinn found herself saying without realizing it. She didn't want to stay here and watch Rachel worry about Finn. And yeah, Beth was screaming for Shelby so often Quinn already needed a break, and another day? She'd definitely need a break from her daughter whining or screaming for Shelby. Eventually, Beth would realize Quinn was her mama, but until then, every time she asked for Shelby was like a little arrow to Quinn's heart.

Santana glared, and with a snarl said, "I'm going," defiantly.

Mack snorted, "Bitch you can barely climb in bed, you aren't going and you know it. Don't be difficult, Me n' Q will get whatever you guys need. You can watch the kids and wait for us."

Santana glared harder, "Forget Xander, you're _Dawn._"

"Dawn?" Mack raised her eyebrows, and smirked at Santana, "I'm not the one staying here, while the rest of us go out into the big bad world, am I?"

Santana glowered at Mack, prompting Brittany to put an arm around her, and snuggle up against her.

"_Anyway,_" Puck said carefully, and from under the table picked up a bottle of whiskey, and shook it towards those seated at the table, "We all take a shot. We're…" he looked at the wall, swallowed heavily, then looked at the group, "We're _alive,_ and we're gonna be okay. Even if this is the last bit of booze in the house."

No one laughed as Jacob Ben Israel started putting cups in front of everyone, hesitating at Sarah and Kyle, before Puck nodded and shrugged, respectively. For a moment, Quinn wanted to say something, but decided to be silent; Sarah was his sister, and it probably wouldn't hurt her to have a small sip. Jacob withered at Terri's pointed look down at her heavily pregnant stomach, so he skipped her. Then Puck followed behind, putting a generous shoot in each cup, except his sister's and the red haired boy's, they only got the tiniest sip. Watching him, Quinn thought about the bottles of booze she'd liberated from her mom's stash, still out in her SUV. She could mention them, now…but decided against it. If Puck and the others wanted alcohol, they'd have to get it when they were out, Quinn wasn't going to just make it easy on them.

When he was done, and back at the table, he raised the bottle. Around her, everyone picked up their cup, mug, or glass, so did she.

"We'll be okay, despite…shit, somehow, we'll be okay now even though we've all lost people. We're safe," Puck said. He took the last gulp of whiskey in the bottle, and everyone followed suit. Quinn winced as the liquid went down her throat, making her feel warm and drowsy. A heavy fatigue settled on her; part boredom, part hurt, part that heavy weary emptiness she'd been carrying around with her all summer.

There was a moment of silence, with only coughing or muttered cursing about the whiskey heard.

Beth's cry of "Maaaaamaaaaa," and the start of a temper tantrum made Quinn sigh. Quickly, Quinn picked up Beth and ran up the stairs, depositing the sobbing, flailing toddler into her playpen, with only a yanked piece of hair to show for her troubles, and their dishes on the table. She figured Ms. Pillsbury would clean them up. As Beth continued to scream and cry, Quinn grit her teeth, then stepped out of the room into the hallway, closing the door almost all the way. She slid down the wall, and sat on the floor staring at the wall opposite of her.

Her daughter wanted Shelby.

Was she always going to want Shelby? Even when she was older, and her memories of Shelby faded away to nothing more than a fondness, an attraction to Rachel, just because she looked a lot like Shelby?

Was her daughter never going to call her Mom?

Stomach rolling, as she listened to the her baby cry for a woman that should have never been her mother, Quinn didn't hear Puck come up until he plopped on the floor next to her, lazily leaning against the wall.

"Gotta set of lungs on her, doesn't she?" He said, nudging the door closed with his foot. It was quieter with it closed, Quinn could admit, but she still gave him an annoyed look.

"I don't want you coming with us," he finally continued when it was clear Quinn wasn't going to say anything.

"It's not up to you," Quinn muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I know, but look. What if something happens? She'll be an orphan. She already lost Shelby, she can't lose the both of us too. There's gotta be like, a limit on how many parents a kid can lose," Puck looked at her, his hazel eyes serious.

"Nothing's going to happen to either of us. I'm going, Puck. You can't stop me," She finally said, glaring at him.

"I just…I just don't understand why you want to go. Like, how can you stand to be separated from her? With what happened at the library," Puck frowned, looking at the door where their daughter still cried.

"Why do you want to be separated from her?" Quinn grit out, even though her stomach was rolling with guilt. He was right, she shouldn't want to be away from Beth at all, but listening to Beth scream for Shelby made it easier. And that wasn't the only reason, even if that was all she came up with when she first said she was going. She needed some books that she was too ashamed to put on any list, even if they were just privately handed to Mack. Mostly she wasn't going to let Mack go out there with just Puck and _Finn_ to watch her back.

"Are you kidding me? It's killing me knowing that I'll be away from her, from our baby girl. We're all she's got," Puck leaned a little closer to Quinn, and she stiffened up, "But I'd feel better going out there, if I knew you were safe here…Quinn…"

"Puck…" She wanted to shout that he wasn't exactly going to win any father of the year awards…of course, she wasn't really winning any mother of the year awards, either. But still, Puck had easily spent more time puking then he had with an awake Beth, but Puck trying to seduce her, or whatever exactly he thought he was doing made her tongue tied and frozen.

He put an arm around her, and leaned down and whispered into her ear, "I'm going to prove to you that I'm a good man, Quinn Fabray. A provider, a protector, a great father…the type of man _you'd_ wanna be _with_ at the end of the world. And I'm all in agreement with that feminist stuff, so if you really wanna go with us, fine, even if the thought is giving me grey hairs."

"I didn't need your permission," She choked out, still frozen.

"I know," He gave her a lazy grin, "I'll give her a bath and get her ready for bed. I'll read to her, okay? And I'll give keep her tomorrow from lunch to bedtime, too?"

She raised an eye brow and looked skeptically at him, "Like I said, I'm aiming for being a great father. I want you to make a list of anything she'll need for the next," he shrugged, "I dunno, year or three? So we know what to get. List's make it easier, rule of shopping. " At her confused look, he lowered his voice to an almost whisper, "If everyone's staying at home or evacuating, shit's going to get looted fast, especially if the military's got who knows how many people to look after. The people that aren't dinner are gonna grab everything. So we're gonna grab everything we need on this trip. And we'll have to start planning a giant ass garden, and stuff too, like hopefully we can find some chickens, goats, rabbits. Be all self sufficient and shit."

"Why not cows and horses?" She found her voice, finally managed to say something, and it was cows and horses.

Another lazy grin, as if he knew what was swirling in her mind, "Goats are way easier, eat everything and you can still milk 'em. Horses…they'll be good when the gas goes bad, maybe. But they're delicate as hell. Donkey's or mules would be better. Sheep, too. Milk and meat and wool." He gazed off towards a small painting at the end of the hall, of a farm. She could only he was imaging himself tending to a flock of sheep, Quinn off to the side in one of those old fashioned pioneer dresses, holding Beth.

Mentally, she rolled her eyes. If this was Puck's daydream, she'd be heavily pregnant, holding a toddler while an older Beth played with a little mohawked boy a few years younger than her.

She took a deep breath, and pictured how scared, how pissed off, how unhappy she'd be with the scenario; doubly so because no doubt, _Rachel_ would be doing the same thing with _Finn_, so she'd spend half the time making moon eyes at Rachel and the other half contemplating throwing herself into a hoard of zombies.

She wanted to throw up.

Dimly, she realized Puck had kept talking, and was pulling her closer to him.

She thought of the toddler still screaming for a woman Quinn had _murdered._

The thought stopped her short. She had _killed a woman in cold blood,_ but she couldn't find the words to tell a teenage boy they weren't going t o be together.

Feeling a little strength at the realization, even if the urge to throw up was made stronger by the memory of what she had done to Shelby, she pulled away from Puck, and stood up.

She looked down at him with sadness. Things would be so much easier if she was in love with him. If she had only listened to him when he wanted to keep Beth.

Before she could open her mouth and say anything, Puck stood up. Gently, he said, "I know, I know, you don't believe me. I'm a good man, you won't regret giving me a chance. I'll prove it to you Quinn, I will. I swear." He looked at her so hopeful, so gently, before nodded at the door, "Sounds like she's ready for her bath, musta tired herself out. Think I'll read to her first. Night Quinn."

Once he was in her room, swiftly she turned around, and ran towards the bathroom.

She barely made it to the toilet before she threw up.

* * *

"It's stupid as hell for both of them leave," Santana rolled her eyes, "I don't want to be stuck with the lizard baby if they don't come back."

"Who says _you'll_ be stuck with her?" Mack muttered from where she was frowning at her phone. Santana didn't know why the other girl was constantly playing Angry Birds, or whatever it was she was doing all the time on her phone. It wasn't like they had any cell service up here, at least that's what Santana assumed. She hadn't bothered grabbing her phone out of her car.

Anyone they had to call was probably dead anyway.

"Beth should go to Ms. Pillsbury. Maybe taking care of a toddler would make her happy again," Brittany piped quietly up from where she was knitting Santana's baseball bat a strap. She'd found the yarn and needles from one of the piles of stuff Ms. Pillsbury had sorted out of the suitcases and bags. Felt a little weird to Santana that they were just calling dibs on dead people's things, but whatever. It wasn't like any of they were going to use it. At that thought, she wrapped her Abuela's shawl around her tighter, caressing the fringe before replying to both girls.

"I repeat, it's freaking stupid." Sullenly, she looked out of the mesh that separated them on the covered porch from the outside. It was great at keeping bugs out, but she was pretty sure a couple of zombies would be able to pull it down pretty easily. Heck, a cat probably could. If she was being honest with herself…now that they were safe, finally, she didn't want anyone leaving. There was enough food to last a while, they could garden and crap.

Well, she silently amended, Jacob Ben Israel could be sent out to get stuff they needed. She didn't give a crap about him. But everyone, even Mr. Schue's pregnant ex wife that Santana hadn't previously thought about since except for like four minutes sophomore year, _everyone_ else could just stay at the cabin where it was safe.

Mack set her phone down on the end table next to the chair she was perched in, and yawned, then said, "I think they'll be fine._ We'll_ be fine. I think your problem, Santana, is that you're pissed you can't go with us 'cause of your knee. Don't worry, I'll be sure to grab everything on your lists."

Yeah, that irritated her too.

"Shut up Mack. My knee wouldn't be half so bad if I hadn't had to save your fat ass," Santana snapped.

Mack snorted, "I think you're ready for some sleep Santana. Want me to get you some ice for your knee?"

Grumpily, Santana said, "Yes."

"Yes, please," Mack sing-songed as she left the porch.

Santana tentatively stretched, first her good leg, then her bad leg, wincing at the pain from her knee.

Yeah, there was no way she was going anywhere for a while. She sighed.

"I'm glad you're not going," Brittany said quietly, not looking up from her knitting, "You're worried about Puck and Quinn and Sam and Mack, I know. Even Finn. But I'm glad you're staying here, with me, where's it's safe. I mean," Finally Brittany set down her needles and looked at Santana. Santana was shocked to see actual tears in Brittany's eyes, "We're going to die, but there's no reason to make it easier by leaving the cabin and going around in an actual city."

Wincing again, Santana stood up, and limped the couple of feet to Brittany, and leaned against the wall next to her, "We're not gonna die Britts. We-"

"We are. Eventually. Maybe some of us will die of old age, but I doubt it," Brittany interrupted her, briefly setting down her knitting to wipe her eyes before resuming.

Santana listened to the click clack of Brittany's needles, as she tried to figure out what to say.

Brittany wasn't okay. Hell, none of them were probably. Finally, she settled on a tentative, "Do you think Lord Tubbington told his gang where we are?"

Brittany paused her knitting, quietly she said, "He doesn't smoke, he doesn't read my diary, he's not in a gang, he's just…he's just a cat."

Santana felt like sobbing, "I've seen him do some uncat like stuff Britts. He's not…he's not just a cat."

Brittany resumed knitting, "He's really really well trained."

"Brits…"

"I don't wanna talk about that stuff anymore Santana. There's no point. You want me and Mack to help you to our room?"

"I…yeah."

Santana Lopez was at a loss for words. Unicorns were one thing, but not believing in Lord Tubbington? All she could do was stare at Brittany, a mixture of sadness, and despair going through her.

Her entire family. And now…now all the things that made Brittany, _Brittany?_

She hoped whoever caused this; whatever scientist got infected with whatever top secret crap he was working on, brought it home, ate his family, that caused all this whoever they were, she hoped he was in hell.

Like the rest of them.

* * *

She'd found the courage to enter her bedroom eventually. For a moment, she watched Puck standing over the portable travel pen. Puck had put the cot addition back on, and Beth was sleeping.

With a frown on her face, naturally.

He reached down and gently stroked a finger along her cheek. She wished things were easier; that she could love him, that she'd never given their baby up.

She sighed.

"Hey," he said softly looking at her.

Unbidden, she stepped lightly next to him. Together, they looked at their daughter.

"I want so much for her, she deserves so much," Puck muttered. Mutely, Quinn nodded. There was so much Beth wasn't going to get to experience now, even if the zombies rotted away in a year or whatever, there'd still be so many people dead things wouldn't go back to normal for a long long time, if ever.

"I also want…I think it'd be nice to give her a middle name, you know? Louise. Beth Louise Shelby Fabray-Puckerman. Kinda a mouthful for such a little girl, but…" Puck whispered, not looking at Quinn.

There was no way Beth was going to carry the memory of Shelby around. Once that day came that Beth forgot Shelby, Shelby was going to stay forgotten to Quinn's daughter forever.

Quinn would carry enough memories of Shelby for the both of them.

"Not…not Shelby," Quinn shook her head, "But I think Louise is a nice middle name."

Puck nodded, "Cool. Didn't think you'd go with Jackie Danielle, but Ma's name is a better choice anyway."

Quinn was grateful he didn't try to argue.

The silence started to stretch, and Puck shifted. Quinn had a sinking feeling that he was about to do something stupid, like kiss her, when the door opened to reveal Mack and Brittany helping Santana to their room.

"We interrupting something?" Mack asked with a grin.

"No, and keep it quiet, Beth's sleeping," Quinn replied in a harsh whisper.

Mack nodded, and gently guided Santana to the only chair in the room. Santana sat, and grumpily stared at Quinn with a scowl as she put held an ice pack on her knee.

Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Night," Mack whispered, before stepping lightly out of the room.

"I better go too," Puck said, his eyes lingering on Quinn as he followed Mack out the door.

"Are you and Puck getting back together?" Brittany asked quietly.

"No," Quinn replied curtly as she started to change into her pajamas, Brittany doing the same.

"Does he know that?" Santana rolled her eyes, shifting to get more comfortable in the chair. Santana was still in her pajamas so she just watched. And judged, too, Quinn was sure Santana could see every stretch mark from her spot on the chair.

"Maybe?" Quinn sighed, and finished pulling on her shirt quickly. She ran a brush through her mostly pink locks, and started the process of taking out and cleaning her contacts while Brittany started gathering things to give Tiffany a bath and get her ready for bed.

Santana rolled her eyes, "He's going to try to get in Mack's pants when you finally woman up and tell him no. Probably has already tried."

Quinn shrugged, "Probably."

She felt a headache coming on. She didn't want to think about Puck, or her daughter, or anything really. She yawned, and eyed her bed longingly.

"Should I send Sarah to our room when I get Tiffany," Brittany asked, filling the silence in the room. Tiffany had been playing with Sarah and the other kids most of the day, after she'd finally found the courage to leave her sister's side. She'd still constantly checked in on her older sister, and made sure they weren't more than a room or so away, but it was progress. Quinn was pretty sure kids bounced back quickly. "Or do you think Puck'll take care of her?"

Quinn shrugged again.

"Puck drank beer and played video games all day. He barely took care of Beth. I doubt he thought about Sarah at all," Santana said heatedly, "She's in our room, we'll take care of her. If Puck's got a problem with that, he can say something and step up."

Mack flopped on the floor, and pulled out her phone.

"Are you so addicted to Angry Birds you can't put your phone down for five minutes," Santana growled, "Are you going to have your nose in it while you guys are looting?"

Mack put her phone down, "I'm texting. Shelia's stuck hiding in an apartment building with a bunch of people, and she's scared shitless."

"Oh," For once, Santana was quiet.

"I'll find my phone and text her tomorrow," Quinn finally said.

Mack nodded, "Think she'd like that. Ronnie too."

"Yeah, I…yeah I'll do that tomorrow," Quinn crawled into her bed, unable to stay awake anymore..

"Night," Mack said, nodding at them and swiftly leaving the room, texting quickly on her phone while she did.

Now that Quinn was in bed, she struggled to keep her eyes open as Brittany left to go get her sister and Sarah. She was aware that Santana was talking to her, but the words faded away as Quinn drifted into sleep.


	11. Shine

"Mrs. Anderson," Rachel said gently. The woman sat up in the California King she shared with Terri and Emma, and stared at Rachel blankly. It took much of Rachel's acting skills to not flinch at her appearance; the woman was pale, gaunt, and dull eyed. It almost seemed the with the death of her husband, and likely anyone else the woman cared about, she had died with him. Mournfully, Rachel thought of Dahlia, and even Blaine. Both needed her, if Blaine insisted he was fine and could care for Dahlia until his step-mother was ready to resume her motherly duties.

"Mrs. Anderson," Rachel repeated a little less gently, "I am certain Dahlia has noticed that you have not been near her, perhaps you would like to hold your baby for a bit while I fetch you something to eat?"

Mrs. Anderson blinked at Rachel, as if she had trouble understanding what Rachel had just said, until finally she slowly nodded.

Pleased, Rachel handed Dahlia over to the infant's mother, and turned around to fetch the bowl of oatmeal she'd set aside for Mrs. Anderson. Placing the spoon in the bowl, she smiled gently at Mrs. Anderson, and said, "Here is your breakfast. There is fruit in it. Of course it was frozen fruit we found in the freezer, but be assured it has been thoroughly thawed. Blaine will return later to check up on you two, if you feel as though you would like your daughter with you for a bit?"

Mrs. Anderson nodded slowly, as she clutched Dahlia to her and stared at the bowl of food.

Baby steps, Rachel told herself as she quietly left the room. Heading downstairs, she felt trepidation at seeing Finn without the excuse of Dahlia. She was concerned about the supply run, worried about everyone's safety…but that did not mean that she was going to sleep with him. And she was certain that's what he expected, given his behavior yesterday.

She knew, yes, she knew that maybe her plans of waiting until after she was a Broadway star to have sex was perhaps childish. And that she did love Finn, and having sex was part of a healthy relationship…she just simply did not feel ready to have sex. Not yet. Not while she was still so deep in grief. Thinking about her father's made her annoyance at Finn rise to prominence. He should think about her, her feelings, her losses, instead of just sex.

She sighed as she walked down the stairs. Maybe she was being too harsh on Finn; making love was a natural response to death, and people mourn in their own ways.

The hub of activity in the house tended to be the living room, and this morning was no exception. Rachel smiled broadly at Finn sitting with the other boys. Perhaps they could not have sex for a while, but they could do something to make him feel better. Her smile slowly faded as she realized what they were doing.

The coffee table was covered with half empty tin cans, and a pile of labels were tossed on the ground, and several cups sloshed liquid all over.

"What are you doing?" Rachel said, her tone turning shriller with each word.

"How stupid are you guys?" Mack snarled from behind Rachel. If Rachel wasn't so upset she would have jumped in surprise.

"Kurt, Blaine, really?" Rachel finally managed to say. Perhaps it was wrong of her, but she frankly expected better of the pair of them. Kurt blushed lightly, and Blaine couldn't meet Rachel's eyes.

Rachel stepped forward, and put her hands on her hips, "What are you _thinking_?"

Puck grinned, "It's alright Rachel. We're just playing 'Mystery Slop'."

"Yeah, we take can of fruit, soup, and meat, take off the labels, then randomize 'em. We pick three cans, mix them up, a drink. It's great," Finn said, then frowned, "Well sometimes we puke."

"You're wasting food!" Terri swooped in from outside, shouting, clutching a towel she dropped on the floor as she waddled in, Emma, who was quietly following behind her, picked it up and folded it neatly.

"It's cool T, we're going out for supplies tomorrow anyway. Plenty more where that came from," Puck drawled, fiddling with his oversized cup full of what looked, to Rachel's disgust, like spam, pears, and who knows what else.

Rachel felt a headache forming as the shrill pregnant woman started berating the boys, Emma standing next to her, staring at the mess with pursed lips. All thoughts of speaking to Finn, of spending time with him, and perhaps offering him a condolence way to put off having sex were forgotten. How could they be so _foolish_. Did they not realize that they could easily find nothing, or that it'd be too dangerous to attempt to gather supplies? Something could happen to the vehicles, they could be stuck walking everywhere. Sure, they were safe from zombies_ here,_ but any number of things could still go wrong.

She turned on her heel and made to go back upstairs. She heard a thumping gait, and suddenly Finn was beside her.

"Where you going Rachel?" He whispered, pulling her close.

She pulled away, "I am going to spend some time alone. Perhaps reading." Or more likely looking through her now restored photo album and crying.

"Come on Rachel, you don't have to watch Blaine's sister right now, we should go up to my room, everyone's down here." Finn said eagerly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I am very upset with you right now, firstly. Secondly, I do not 'have' to watch Dahlia, I choose to. I am more than happy to assist Blossom," Rachel replied, trying to keep calm.

"Rach, come on," he put himself closer to her, and leaned down to kiss her.

She pulled again, and stepped back, "I said no. Even if I was not in mourning for my fathers, _for the rest of humanity,_ seeing you with the others behaving so foolishly is certainly a turnoff, not that I feel I am ready for intercourse anyway."

"Rachel, I love you," Finn said looking at her sadly.

She sighed, and looked up at him seriously, "Finn...that is the first time you have told me that you love me without my saying it first. I wish it had been under different circumstances." Then she turned, and continued her trek to their room. Thankfully, Finn did not follow her.

Later, as she silently sobbed as she flipped through her families happy memories, she realized with a start she hadn't cried about Finn's words or actions, just about her father's death. A cold pit settled in her as she wondered what that could mean for their future. She took a deep breath, wondering if it meant they weren't, in fact, meant to be…or that she had simply grown used to his foibles. She swallowed hard, as she stared at a photo of her father's she had taken just last month.

All Rachel wanted was to have a partnership, a _marriage_, like her father's had, one full of love, respect, and happiness. And now, given the circumstances, survival. But if she wasn't going to have that with Finn, who else was there that would love her back like he did?

* * *

"It's not a big deal, they're going to bring back truckloads of food anyway Satan," Kurt muttered, face flushed pink, clearly embarrassed at being caught playing the disguising and wasteful game the boys were playing.

"I repeat, Porcelain, you're lucky I'm not in charge of this place. I'd have you idiots chopping wood for twelve hours a day for weeks to make up for it," Santana snorted, "It was Finn's idea, wasn't it?" Santana rolled her eyes.

Kurt rolled his eyes, and huffed, "Not everything that's a dumb idea is Finn's."

"It was Puck's!" Finn defended himself, then resumed reading his comic book.

"Just most of the time," Santana smirked. Blaine came back into the living room carrying his sister, and Santana started, then willed herself not to say the mean thing she was thinking. Yet somehow, she still said, "What are you going to do when you run out of hair gel,_ Devon_?" She had been immensely happy to find out his middle name.

"I would find more, of course, Santana," Blaine said, smiling at her.

He was so hard to upset, always even tempered.

It irritated Santana.

"I'd help you," Kurt said, shooting a glare at Santana then making a goofy face at Dahlia as Blaine sat next to him.

Blaine and Kurt started making googly eyes at each other, so with an exaggerated sigh of disgust Santana stood up, then sat back down embarrassingly quickly, her knee so painful it brought tears to her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked, concerned.

"There's zombies eating people, I'm stuck with glee dorks, and for all we know I've utterly fucked up my knee totally," Santana snapped, "But on the bright side me and Brittany have been conserving water by showering together. You two should try it," Santana needed Brittany's help, so it just wasn't fun, stress relieving stuff. And Santana certainly hadn't been moved to tears at the act; grateful they were alive and _together_.

Finn made a noise that sounded like an angry pregnant moose, and sat up from where he'd been browsing a pile of comic books on the other couch, slamming the one he'd been holding on to the coffee table loudly, before storming away leaving a confused looking Sam watching him as he stormed off.

"What's with Finnoncence?" Santana smirked. She knew what Finn's problem was. He was a teenage boy. Frankly, she was glad Rachel was being a prude, Santana firmly believed the world would be worst off if there was any little Finn Rachel hybrids toddling around.

And frankly the world already sucked enough.

"Uh, well," Kurt stumbled, before, with a look at Kurt, Blaine added, "Relationship issues?"

Before Santana could reply, Sarah came in holding Beth.

The toddler looked as grumpy as ever.

Sarah flopped down next to Santana exaggeratedly.

Santana sent the girl a questioning look.

"Quinn asked me to watch her while she went out for a jog and a quick shower afterwards," Sarah shrugged, her thick brown hair rustling with the movement.

Santana was pretty sure the kid was going to be a knockout when she was an adult.

"Why didn't she ask your brother?"

Sarah grinned at Santana, her thick bangs making her face look almost elfish, "He's trying to talk to Quinn alone, so he's running with her n' Mack." She bent down and gently pulled a comic book from Beth's hands, and gave her a magazine instead. The toddler started gleefully pulling the pages out while making an annoying shrieking noise that set Santana's nerves on edge.

Santana leaned back, and slung an arm around Sarah. "How's being an aunt treating you Baby Puck?"

Sarah rolled her eyes in an almost perfect imitation of Santana, making Santana puff up a little in pride, then said, "I mean, it's a little weird. But nice. I like it when's she's sleeping."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," They sat in silence watching Beth destroy the magazine, before Santana nodded at Blaine, "How's that kid doing?"

Blaine fussed with the pretty dress Dahlia was wearing as she sat on his lap happily gumming a stuffed dog, then answered, "Good. She's adjusting well...I think. I wish Blossom would do more with her, but Rachel had her hold her a bit today, so I think she's…getting better?"

Santana wrinkled her nose, not really knowing what to say, "Well, hopefully," she finally settled on.

Silence reigned, only interrupted by the distressed noises Ms. Pillsbury made when she came back in and saw the mess that still littered the coffee table and surrounding areas. Soon only the frantic noises of cleaning could be heard, broken only by Stacy and Stevie chattering quietly as they came in and sat on either side of Sam.

* * *

Quinn clearly hadn't told Puck that they weren't getting back together, a consequence of which meant that Quinn made Santana or Mack stay with her at all times, because Puck wanted alone time with Quinn to talk about it, and he wasn't going to do any of the relationship stuff with anyone else present.

Santana was more than happy to stick close to Quinn, because watching Quinn and Puck trying to parent was amusing, Santana could admit. They were awkward at it, Puck didn't really want to do that hard stuff, like diaper changes or telling Beth she couldn't chew Lord Tubbington's tail or just have apple juice instead of actual food, and they couldn't come to a consensus, and would have quiet arguments that usually ended with Quinn hissing angrily that "_She_ had given birth to Beth, and _she_ had done _everything_ for her."

And yeah, maybe listening to them try not to argue too loudly would get annoying. Or maybe, eventually, when they weren't so new at this parenting thing, they'd agree.

Santana wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she was kinda looking forward to watching them learn to be parents, and to them being good at it.

She still thought it was stupid for both of them to go out over the next few days. And even more so when she learned Brittany had volunteered herself and Santana to take over the lizard baby's care while they're were gone for however many days.

Maybe they'd even get back together, if Quinn got over her stupid feelings for Finn. Santana had caught Quinn looking at Rachel weirdly a few times, it made her want to shake Quinn and tell her to get over it already.

She watched Tina smile softly at Tiffany in approval as the little blond put a puzzle piece in correctly. Tina, Tiffany, Sarah, and Kyle were putting a puzzle together on the coffee table. From her spot on the couch next to Quinn, it looked some sappy landscape. But whatever, it was like 3000 pieces and keeping most of the kids occupied without forcing anyone to listen to some dumb kid show from the bookcases of DVDs. Plus Tina wasn't hiding in her room, and actually joining the rest of them, even her interaction had mostly just been with the kids.

Sam was reading comic books out loud to his siblings, and Santana was kinda enjoying it, mixed with the sound of Brittany's knitting on her other side, and the occasional bit of noise from one of the kids when they found a piece and put it where it went.

It was relaxing. Well, it would be if Beth was a little quieter (the toddler was very fond of the word "No!", babbling it to the magazines she was tearing up, but at least she'd stopped making the shrieking noise that made her sound like a tiny carnivorous dinosaur), but even with the noise still Santana found herself dozing off.

She felt wide awake though, when Stacy asked out of the blue, "Will Santa be able to find us?"

And Tiffany added, "What if the monsters get Santa?"

Even Beth was quiet as everyone looked at Sam, "Uh," his eyes met Santana's. She clinched her jaw, and made up her mind. She didn't care if they had to loot a dozen stores, the kids were getting stuff from Santa. She nodded at Sam, and then at the kids, and then Sam again, hoping he'd figure out what she meant.

He did, "Of course Santa will find us. And he's like, Santa, he's safe from monsters."

Mollified, the kids accepted that. Collectively, every one over the age of thirteen in the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

Everything was calm until Jacob Ben Israel's reedy voice said, "So Santana, Brittany, I hear you two have been conserving water in the shower. Any chance I could-" as he pushed his camera in their faces.

"Dude!" Sam said, wiggling from in-between his siblings and standing up, "You really need to like, stop being a creep."

"I just want to watch! It's not like," Jacob's voice got quieter and whinier as Sam pulled him out of the living room.

"Do you and Brittany take baths together like me and Stevie do? That saves water," Stacy asked Santana, clutching Sam's dropped comic.

"We sure do," Brittany answered for her, smiling in that kid friendly way Santana really hadn't mastered, then swiftly changed the subject to Lord Tubbington, who must have heard her say his name, because he lightly stepped into the living room, tail twitching as Brittany chattered about his exploits to rid the house of dust bunnies.

He was definitely more than a well trained cat. Kinda.

Blaine was giving her a pitying look, so Santana leaned closer to him, and muttered, "So yeah, he totally thinks of us together. Whatever, we're hot, even if I want to puke imagining what he does while he thinks of us. I bet he thinks of you and Kurt together too. Mark my words, he's going to be shoving that camera in your face to watch you two do what you two do, soon too."

Blaine blushed, and looked horrified. Santana sat back, and felt a little satisfied. Truthfully, it pissed her off Jacob was clearly using her and Brittany in his spank bank, and then had the balls to ask if he could watch? She made a mental note to break his camera soon, (maybe pin it on the cat?) since it was his only one.

* * *

Today was the day they were heading out. Somehow, Quinn managed to ensure she'd wasn't alone with Puck all day yesterday. Santana and Mack had both been amused that she'd made one of them stay with her at all times. She'd tried Brittany, but for whatever reason, Puck had no problems talking about 'mushy crap' as Mack called it with Brittany around.

So he spent most of the day following her and Beth around, and arguing with her about every little thing, right down to Beth's socks.

_Sighing, Quinn picked up the socks and put them on top of the dresser. Beth didn't want to wear them, so she wasn't going to make her. Sure, it was chilly, but it wasn't going to hurt her to have cold feet for the day. And hey, maybe Beth would keep her socks on if she had cold feet today. _

_"Come on Monkey," Puck said, giving Quinn a look, "Let's put your socks on," he babbled to the frowning toddler, pulling the socks on. _

_As soon as he was done, he put Beth back into her play pen, then turned to Quinn, "It's too cold for her to go without socks Quinn," he said seriously. _

_Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Tell her that, I wasn't the one taking them off of her." _

_"So you keep putting them back on her, you don't give up and let her feet be cold." _

_Quinn rolled her eyes, "Puck, that's ridiculous." _

_"Well it's what my mom would have done."_

_"Really? I doubt your mom had time to keep putting your socks on after you pulled them off Puck." _

_"Louise really seemed like the type who would let your feet be cold Puck," Santana interjected into their quiet argument, from her perch on the top of the bunk bed. Quinn could clearly hear the amusement in her voice. _

_"Well, maybe. I'm just saying, it's probably not good for her to have cold feet. She'll get sick or something." _

_Quinn shrugged, "Seriously Puck, tell your daughter that," Quinn nodded to the play pen, "She took them off again. How about you be in charge of putting them on her if it bugs you so much." _

To his credit, he kept putting the socks back on Beth the rest of the day without arguing with her. Well, about the socks anyway. So he was trying, but after what she'd done to get Beth, it irritated her that he was second guessing her so much. She was Beth's_ mother. _

Her musings were interrupted when Jacob Ben Israel opened the back door of Mack's van, the front of which she was leaning against waiting for everyone else to come outside to the cars. It was early morning, the sun barely peaking over the trees, and Quinn was grateful for the cup of extra strong coffee in her hands with extra suger and cream. Yawning, she glared at Jacob, who grinned at her and pointed his camera at her, "This is Quinn Fabray, and-"

"Get that out of my face, and get away from Mack's van. You aren't riding with us."

He flipped the camera to himself, "She's feisty in a cold way. Former head cheerleader and glee club member, and more recently former member of the McKinley High's Skanks, now Quinn Fabray kills zombies, takes care of the baby she gave away along with Noah Puckerman, and, rumor has it, joins Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce in the shower to further conserve water. I will attempt to gain evidence of this, as I feel it's important for future generations viewing this documentary to see. " He continued, before starting to climb into the back of Mack's van.

Quinn set her coffee mug on the hood of the van, and stomped to the back. She stepped inside, and glared at him.

"No one is going to watch whatever dumb movie you're making, you're just wasting time. You're riding with Finn, I think. Whatever, just go away." She said flatly to him, taking a threatening step towards him.

Pouting, and a little scared looking, he finally left Mack's van, and gratefully, Quinn resumed leaning against the van, sipping her coffee.

It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

Finn had whispered that he loved her as they said their good byes before he lift. Of course, she had told him she loved him back, and sent him off with a lingering kiss that would have won awards if this was a movie.

It was the second time that he had said he loved her without her saying it first. She didn't like that mostly, hearing Finn say that he loved her without her saying it first just made her sad without quite knowing why.

She was on the porch, a book by her side, staring, frowning, off into the woods. She was worried about the trip. It was dangerous. And what if Finn did not gather the correct sizes for the things she asked for?

She wondered it Finn really loved her….if she really loved him. Or if their love was only a high school infatuation doomed to fail after they graduated; her from the fear of being alone, him from the knowledge that she would accept, pathetic as she was, whatever scraps of attention and affection given to her as long as they did not deter her from her dreams.

Her dads had made it clear that while they liked Finn, they hadn't really expected Rachel to remain with him for very long once they started college. If they knew that Rachel was technically, (even though she didn't have a ring, or even a proper proposal,) engaged to him, they would be horrified.

They probably wouldn't have been horrified to learn Quinn had feelings for her; that all of Quinn's bullying mean girl behavior stemmed from feelings Quinn couldn't accept or acknowledge. No, they'd be far more understanding and kind to Quinn then Quinn likely deserved.

She sighed, and idly traced the pattern on her socks. She was with Finn, would get married to him somehow, and either she would learn to accept that he actually loved her, or she'd accept that she was the best he bothered to find and keep.

She yearned for her father's, for their unconditional, never ending love. She was never going to find anyone who would love her like that. Finn, (and even, yes, Quinn, _anyone_) could proclaim till they were blue in the face that they loved her more than life itself, but she would never truly believe them.

Had she reached her dreams of Broadway stardom, even her fans would be fickle in their love.

Her thoughts drifted as she stared at one of Dahlia's toys either her or Blaine had left on the porch.

It came to her, suddenly; a baby.

A baby, a child from her womb, would love her, adore her, look up to her.

Finn would certainly be receptive to at least, the _act_ of making a child. And if he preferred to use protection, because of the inherent danger of pregnancy, childbirth, and actually caring for an infant, well, there was always Puck, who constantly prattled about repopulation. No doubt it would cause problems between them, but she very much doubted it would come to Puck, because it was highly unlikely Finn would think about anything beyond the fact that they would have sex.

No, Finn would not think about the dangers of pregnancy, or childbirth, or the realities of caring for an infant. She frowned…she did not know how good of a partner Finn would, in actuality, make. Before the zombies, there was nannies, maids, housekeepers, personal vegan chefs, and bodyguards for when she was famous and someone would wish to harm to her children. Now, however, it would solely be up to them and those with them to protect the children, ensure they were fed, housed, clean, clothed, had adequate toys and learning materials, and were protected from the creatures that wished to eat them.

Would Finn really be able to ensure their offspring had what they needed?

She frowned. Perhaps, _perhaps_ Finn was up to the task. Certainly, those around them would help, and their location was a boon as well.

She'd simply have to spend more time with Dahlia, and the other children for that matter, and strongly encourage Finn to assist her with them to see how he managed before she made any rash choices and actually attempted procreation.

It was a pity, she mused, that Quinn was female, and thus unable to impregnate her. She had seen how Quinn was with Beth, and had no doubts that while Quinn's parenting skills were perhaps a bit rocky at the moment, Quinn would do what she had to do to ensure Beth would want for nothing, that Beth would _thrive._

Shelby, she thought a twinge guiltily, was proof of that.

* * *

They had run out of things to talk about by afternoon, so had been driving in a comfortable silence for the last hour.

Quinn tried to doze after she gave up trying to get Mack to let her take a turn driving, but every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was them returning to the cabin with the vehicles full of things for everyone, only to find zombies nibbling on the remains of those left behind.

Maybe it hadn't been a good idea for her to go.

She'd voiced that thought to Mack, who just looked at her, amused, and said, "They'll be fine. I'm more worried about us, with Hudson and Jacob Ben Israel covering our backs. Shit, pretty sure we'd be safer if we left them in the cars."

Quinn couldn't exactly disagree. Jacob was useless, she was pretty sure he hadn't killed a single zombie, and he'd brought his camera along. Finn was…over eager at best, and kinda, well, dumb, at worst.

During one of their brief stops, Puck had mentioned that they'd go through the houses on the mountain on the way back, and Quinn had wondered why they'd bother if they were going to get everything they needed in the town, but whatever.

Puck, driving his truck, pulled to the side of the road and Mack quickly followed, Sam and Finn following along.

He got out, and stretched, then with a lazy grin pulled out a map, and unfolded it on the hood of the truck. The rest of them, Quinn included, meandered to him, and silently surrounded him.

Jacob had his camera out, and Quinn grit her teeth, annoyed, but glad he wasn't narrating or asking stupid questions.

"All right, " Puck said, pointing to a spot on the map, "We're here. " He drew his finger along, "Here's the city. I've been there a few times, there's a Walmart SuperCenter on the outskirts. It'll probably be mostly looted, but I bet we can find a bunch of shit there people wouldn't think to grab. Like baby crap. So we'll stop there first, then slowly make our way through town. We'll have to pick up a phone book and maybe another map, but," he shrugged.

Finn frowned, "I don't think we should go slow. We should just go as fast as possible, and get home sooner."

"Man, we can still go fast in the stores, but it only makes to go through town slowly to check things out. Place looks over run, we ain't stopping."

"That makes sense, I guess, but uh, why are you deciding everything?"

Puck shrugged, "Cause it makes sense, and someone has to decide? You got a better idea Finn, then say so."

"Well…I don't. But if I do, I'll say so," Finn frowned, but thankfully, stopping arguing.

They got back in the cars again, and slowly drove. It felt like forever to drive the remaining mile to the Walmart. They'd taken the back roads, staying off the highway as much as possible, which added to the feeling.

Finally, they parked in the supercenter's parking lot.

Weirdly, there was only a few dozen cars in the huge lot, but Quinn decided maybe a bunch of people didn't show up to work, and anyone that came to loot got in and got out.

"Alright," Puck said once they had gathered around him, holding their weapons, "So we go in together, and like, SWAT team it, clearing each isle and the back. Then we can separate. But remember every zombie movie ever, and keep an eye out. No guns unless absolutely needed," he looked at Sam and Quinn when he said that, the only people with guns, before adding to the whole group, "Don't get cocky."

"I think I should get a gun," Finn said "Burt takes -used to take, me and Kurt shooting, so I'd be better with it then Quinn."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at him, "First, I used to go hunting with my dad. Second, it's my gun. If I gave it to anyone, not that I need to, it'd be Mack or Sam."

"Yeah, but you're a girl."

Quinn took a step forward, ready to punch him. She'd feel a lot of satisfaction from not just his stupid comment, but because of Rachel. He was with Rachel. Rachel loved him. Oh yeah, she'd love to punch his stupid dumb dopey face.

Sam and Mack both reached arms out to stop her, and Puck said, "Dude."

Finn rolled his eyes, "Whatever, sorry. Can we go already?"

Puck handed out the lists, divided by room and people calling dibs, then said, "Here, try to get everything you can on the lists, but don't worry too much, there'll be other stops. Remember, constant awareness. Like that Harry Potter dude says. Don't be that guy that gets bit because he lets his guard down and gets surprised by a zombie hiding in the vent or something. Let's go." It was 'Constant Vigilance!' said by Mad Eye Moody, but Quinn wasn't going to correct him. Rachel would have, though, she thought with a small smile as they walked into the store.

Puck lead the way, after a long last lingering look at Quinn and they fell in behind him, Finn grumbling softly under his breath as Jacob babbled to the camera.

* * *

The lights had still been on in the store. Puck had shrugged, surprised. In all the movies, the lights had been out and the store was only dimly lit. But then again, it hadn't been a week yet, so probably everything that ran that stuff was still on. That was probably why it still smelled strongly like bleach; some poor hardworking bunch of employees worked hard to clean then place, then went home after a long days work to find their neighbors eating their families.

The store had been empty of zombies. Utterly. Completely. Not even one hiding in a bathroom stall, ready to kill the first person who had to pee. To be safe, they'd checked the store twice more, before Puck said it was okay to separate.

Quinn looked down at her lists. She had her and Beth's stuff, Dahlia, Santana, Tiffany, Sarah, and Brittany. She grabbed three carts, and tied them together using the child seat belt. She tested it out a bit, and deemed it acceptable. A little awkward, a little slow, but it'd save her a couple of trips to the cars. It may be safe inside, but those things could always show up _outside._

Her first stop was toys, passing Sam in the little girls section tossing things into his cart for his sister. She picked up a bunch of kid books, coloring books, crayons, stickers, puzzles, a few craft activities along with a bunch of card games, and finally some fancy looking dolls. She felt a little ridiculous, like hey, most of your family is dead, but here have a new doll or an expensive toy your family would never be able to afford to make up for it. She grabbed all of the batteries that were on a small stand in the toy section lastly.

She went to the little girls clothing section next, giving Sam a smile as he passed her on his way to the boys section. She enough winter clothes for Sarah and Tiffany that they wouldn't be stuck doing laundry a lot, making sure to account for both girls growing a size or two up. She finished up with a three pack of underwear and socks each, figuring you could never have enough of either, and some long half forgotten memory of Coach Sue's training saying socks and underwear were vital. If only she could remember the rest of it, but whatever. They had the cabin. She grabbed both girls two new backpacks, pretty floral prints, and stocking caps in the accessories department, before meandering to the woman's department to pick some things for herself, Santana, and Brittany.

That done, she went to the Baby/Toddler section.

It was a little overwhelming. She made a beeline to the books, and picked up eleven, quickly paring those down to six.

She looked at the selection of diaper bags, and finally settled on one that was black. It was roomy, and had a lot of pockets, and most importantly, wasn't _Shelby's_ first. She grabbed a dark green one for Blaine's sister, also roomy with a lot of pockets, and dark green a baby backpack too, since both were on Blaine and Rachel's list for Dahlia. She ignored the little voice telling her that the dark green would look great on Rachel when she had the backpack on.

She had checked Beth's clothing size, so she picked out things for winter that were a size, two or three, bigger than that for Beth to grow into, even a few things for spring and summer.

With a grimace, she realized that most of the disposable diapers were gone, but the selection of cloth diapers was basically full, so she grabbed what disposables there were, then most of the cloth diapers, reasoning that if Beth couldn't use them, then Dahlia could, and Terri's baby too for that matter. All the formula that was left went in the cart too, along with the boxes of child rice and cereal and the few bits of baby food that hadn't been grabbed by someone else. Even prenatal vitamins for Terri, since she was there anyway, even if she didn't have Terri's list.

She picked up a bunch of baby and toddler toys and books as well as the things Blaine and/or Rachel requested.

The two full cars were getting pretty heavy, and it was a hassle to pull them both along with the third, so she stopped quickly in the sports section, where she picked up a couple cute sleeping bags for Tiffany and Sarah, and got all of them fuzzy blankets from the house wares section.

Even though they had made sure there was nothing in the store but them, that had almost made it extra unnerving to walk through the brightly lit store.

She kept feeling like they were in a bad horror movie, or something, and any second now hundred of zombies were going to fall through the ceiling or something.

The carts were heavy and full by now, so she dragged it towards the exit near the cars, meeting with Sam and Mack who both had a couple carts as well.

They unloaded things quickly, and Quinn couldn't help but raise a questioning eyebrow at Mack's choices. The girl had gotten things on her share of the lists (weirdly, she only had herself and Tina. Quinn had no idea how The Mack had managed _that_), but she'd also gotten stuff that made Quinn wonder why Mack bothered. They didn't need a tent, they had the cabin. It was the safest place they could possibly be, and there was no reason to ever leave except to go on supply runs. Whatever, maybe Mack was tired of sharing a room and wanted to sleep outside.

Conversation was light as they finished unloading, and headed back to the store entrance.

They were about to step into the store when the cars pulled up.

* * *

She'd finally tired of her musings, and picked up the book she was halfheartedly reading when door to the rest of the house opened, and Mrs. Anderson stepped out. Rachel couldn't help herself, she stared. The woman, who was no more than ten years older than Rachel, looked like she had stepped out of a magazine; compared to how she'd looked the last few days, it was like a whole new woman had appeared. She was wearing an unseasonable lacy white sundress, and white heels that made her long legs look even longer. The bright green color of the sling she wore baby Dahlia in popped against the white, but not as much as her tan (Rachel wondered if she had some self tanner in her bags). Her pale gold hair was artfully arranged and pulled back with a green ribbon. She looked healthy and alive, like a maiden of old ready to worship at a goddess of spring's alter. It was a sharp contrast to her appearance yesterday.

Rachel swallowed hard, and tried to push down the feeling of inadequacy, feeling all too well that she must look absolutely like an over grown toddler that Santana always claimed she looked like when she donned a cute sweater, skirt, and knee high socks. That there were zombies in the world, and no one was likely to give any notice to what she looked like did not matter in that moment.

"Mrs. Anderson," she started, unsure of what to say.

"Rachel," Mrs. Anderson said and smiled at Rachel as she stepped towards the door that would lead outside, "Thank you for watching Dahlia. I'm much better now."

"I can see that," Rachel finally said, causing Mrs. Anderson to stop and turn around, "I am so glad you are up and out of bed."

"It's so lovely out there, I decided to take Dahlia for a walk," she replied brightly, as if she didn't have a care in the world. And perhaps she didn't. Perhaps just being here, at the cabin, was enough to make Mrs. Anderson, to make everyone, finally feel safer and a little happier. Or at least content, Rachel thought, thinking about Finn and Kurt. Her smile made Rachel feel a little better about everything.

"Dahlia is such a beautiful name," Rachel said, closing the gap between them. She had already told Mrs. Anderson that just yesterday, and she internally cringed that she had repeated herself. Mrs. Anderson surely thought she was a child.

Mrs. Anderson looked at Rachel what that same bright smile on her face.

Rachel was sure it was simply her imagination that made her think it was a strained smile. Rachel reached out and carefully pushed back a piece of fabric the was partly obscuring Dahlia's face, and started at the infant with both longing, and utter scrutiny. As if Rachel could somehow download all the knowledge she wanted, and all her questions answered by simply looking at the baby long enough.

"If you are feeling tired after your walk, I would be more than happy to watch Dahlia for you. She's such a lovely baby, and you have such adorable clothing for her," Rachel said, aware she was babbling mostly nonsense, and she felt a little silly even as the words flowed from her with a life of their own.

"Hmm, well, I don't think you and Blaine will have to be watching my daughter much longer, " Mrs. Anderson said softly.

"Well, we're both more than happy to give you a break while you…adjust. This has been such a troubling time, and hopefully things will be simpler, safer, in the next few month, " Rachel said, finding her voice a little, and standing up a bit taller, "If not, well…I imagine we will have to go out looking for things we desperately need; books. There's so much knowledge that we need. I have no idea how to bake bread, for instance. And Terri is pregnant, I doubt any of us know what to do when she goes into labor. How on earth do we expect the Dahlia and the rest of the children to function properly into adults if they aren't taught well as children. The children, and any future children, deserve a chance to grow and flourish," Rachel finished with a rue smile. She had sounded so mature in her head, but looking at the look on Mrs. Anderson's face, she felt even sillier.

Mrs. Anderson gently caressed the top of Dahlia's head, then murmured something Rachel didn't catch as she carefully removed the baby and sling from her person, and placed the infant in Rachel's arms, causing Rachel's brow to wrinkle in confusion.

After a long minute, Mrs. Anderson looking at Dahlia with a contemplating look, with a small sigh Rachel made a motion to hand the baby back to her mother.

"I've decided you should keep her Rachel," Mrs. Anderson stated seriously.

"Oh, but you wanted to take a walk with her, and it'd be good for her to get some sunshine, I'm sure, but as I said, I would be more than happy to take her after you finish your walk," Rachel protested.

Mrs. Anderson stepped lightly to the outside door, and opened it, before turning back to Rachel, "No, _you_ keep her. She's Blaine's sister, but you? You'll be good for her, and I think she'll be good for you."

Before Rachel could, frowning, ask Mrs. Anderson what exactly she meant, the woman was outside, after one long last look at the baby.

* * *

Rachel had gathered a few of the five month old's toys, and a blanket, and had settled Dahlia on the blanket to play and practice rolling over, then resumed reading while keeping an eye and a hand out on Dahlia. The infant had been contentedly gumming her toys and babbling at Rachel, but had eventually looked sleepy enough Rachel had put her in the sling and put her on.

Rachel yawned, and lazily looked at the big moose clock that sat next to the front door. Frowning, she realized it had been almost two hours and Mrs. Anderson was not back from her walk. She stood up carefully, and stretched, before leaving the porch into the chilly outside.

She then turned right around and gathered up the blanket she had put down for Dahlia to play on, deciding it was too chilly otherwise. She tucked it around the sleeping baby, then languidly walked the property.

The beginning of autumn was starting to turn the leaves, and she had no doubt that when fall had completely taken over, it was going to be gorgeous. She shivered a little in the chilly air, glad that she had taken the extra blanket for the infant sleeping on her. She wondered if they should put in a winter garden; they had the space, and it would not hurt anything to be that much extra prepared. Besides, fresh food would always be preferred over canned or frozen. She was mulling over plant placements when she came up to the large pond that sat on the property.

It took her a second to realize the bits of gold and green floating underwater away from the shore where the water was deep wasn't a plant, or fish or reflections from the trees.

It was hair and ribbons.

She screamed, a piercing shriek that echoed slightly. She stood there, staring at the floating hair, clutching Dahlia to her chest. She didn't know how long she stood there before Tina cautiously approached.

"Rachel?" Tina gasped, wide eyed.

Rachel licked her lips, then babbled, "She told me she was taking a walk by the pond. She looked so beautiful, so healthy, so much better then she had the last few days…I had no idea she was going…" she lost her words, and simply pointed.

Tina stood on the edge to the pond to get a closer look, before gasping, and backing away.

"We…we need to get the others," Tina mumbled, then backed away from the pond.

Quietly, Rachel followed her back to the cabin.

Everyone was in the living room taking turns playing Mario Kart.

Rachel found her voice, quietly said, "Sarah, Kyle, please take the other children upstairs."

"Come on Berry, I was kicking ass!" Santana rolled her eyes, Beth on her lap taking advantage of her attention being elsewhere to start pushing all the buttons on the controller Santana was holding.

When no one moved, she said, "Please. Now," strongly. Finally snapping "Now!" again to her shame when still no one moved.

The children swarmed, Sarah taking Beth from Santana. As soon as the last foot was up the stairs, Santana sneered, "What's up your butt Berry?"

Rachel ignored her, and looked at Blaine, "Blaine, I am very very sorry-"

"Mrs. Anderson killed herself, " Tina burst out, then started crying.

"What?" Blaine's eyes got teary, and Kurt quickly put an arm around him, then said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. She came out on the porch a few hours ago, we spoke a bit, then she said she wished to take a walk. She had Dahlia with her…" Rachel's realized, horrified, that Blossom was going to drown Dahlia too, "I…I think she was going to drown Dahlia as well, but I said something that changed her mind…" she finished in a harsh whisper. Rachel quoted their exact conversation word for word, then sat down, suddenly her legs felt wobbly and weak.

No one spoke for several long minutes.

"She gave Dahlia to you," Blaine finally said softly.

"I…I suppose she did," Rachel conceded, "But of course she's your sister, and your step-mother was obviously not in a state of mind to be making such decisions. "

Blaine freely let the tears fall from his eyes, as finally he said, "I spoke to Blossom this morning. I tried to tell her...well, obviously my words weren't enough to make her decide Dahlia deserved a chance. She wanted you to have her, so unless you don't want her, she's yours," Blaine said, leaning away from Kurt, and looking at his sister.

"Do not be silly, Blaine Anderson. She is your sister," Rachel said sternly, then to make her point, she carefully took Dahlia out of the sling and handed her to Blaine, "I would be more then glad to help you with her, I imagine we all would."

Blaine looked down at his sister, "How about…we both take care of her? Okay? I'll feel better that Blossom's last request was granted, and you'll feel better that I'm with her."

A sober sounding Santana finally said, "As much as I hate to break up this Kodak moment, we should do something about the body in the pond."

Blaine stroked Dahlia's face, "I'll dig a grave for her. Somewhere on the edge of the property, away from the water."

"I'll help you," Kurt said, sighing and staring at his nails, "I'll have to change first."

Blaine smiled softly, "Of course."

They were all silent, no one moving to busy themselves with what needed to be done except Kurt and Brittany who stood up and sat next to a sobbing Tina, comforting her. Rachel's thoughts finally turned to Finn; and with an internal wince she wondered what he was going to think of Rachel essentially adopting a baby with split custody with Blaine. It was not going to be much different, she decided, since she and Blaine had been doing all of Dahlia's care anyway. Finn hadn't been happy about that, but now that it was permanent, Finn would just have to deal with it. It'd be good for him, give him a greater chance to grow and mature, she told herself, even as she knew that he was going to be seriously upset.

* * *

Quinn froze as the vehicles all parked in the road next to the entrance, and slowly she reassured herself her gun was still in its holster, waiting. None of them dared to move, as the gun holding occupants stepped out of the vehicles and stared, hard, at them.

One of them, a burly bearded man, spat on the ground then said, "This all of you?"

Sam stepped forward, protectively in front of her and Mack, and said, "No, three more of us are in the store."

"We were on guard duty, but got bored and decided to go in and help get supplies, " Mack lied smoothly, shrugging nonchalantly.

The apparent leader looked all of them in the eyes, then nodded at Quinn, "Go get the rest of your group. Tell 'em to leave the shit they're taking in the store. "

Blank faced, Quinn turned from the group, Sam, and Mack, and headed off. Her mind was racing, wondering if something awful was about to happen.

"Puck! Finn!" She yelled as soon as she was out of sight.

"Whoa, what's up?" Puck said coming from electronics, Finn and Jacob a few feet behind him. She rushed to him, barely able to control her urge to roll her eyes. Of course they were looking at video games. Quinn had Sarah, but Rachel and the people on their lists were screwed.

"Bunch of gun toting people just showed up, told me to come get you guys. Said to leave anything you've taken here," Quinn said stonily.

"Shit," Puck said, looking back at the other two.

"We were here first," Finn shrugged.

"I agree with our former quarterback, " Jacob said, giving his basket full of cameras a loving glance that she'd seen him give before to Rachel. It made her stomach turn then, and it did again now.

"Leave it, and come on. If they hurt Sam and Mack because you guys didn't want to leave your video games and camera crap, I'll never forgive any of you," Quinn snapped, turning to leave. The boys followed her.

The bearded man's face looked over them, no doubt, Quinn was sure, to make sure no one had stuffed a bag of rice in their pants, or had more clothing on then they should.

"This all of you?" He asked gruffly.

"Yeah man, we-" Puck started to say, but Finn interrupted him. "Look, we were here first. There's plenty of stuff for everybody to have what they want. "

The burly bearded man gave a short gruff laugh, then spat on the ground again, "Who do you think cleared that place out? Every fuckin' employee of that place was in there, and then some. It's ours, we lost people taking it back, and we don't appreciate anyone going in there tryin' to take what's ours. Hell, we even fuckin' bleached the zombie goop and blood out. Government can't handle this, shit we've all seen the movies. It's only a matter of time. We'll need everything in there eventually."

"Uh, shit. We're sorry?" Mack offered.

The bearded man laughed again, "Yeah, we'll maybe we should put up a sign or something. Didn't figure there was much people around to worry about, they're either dead, with us, too scared to leave their homes, or stupidly relying on the government. You kids are just kids, so we'll let it slide this time and let you leave."

Finn looked like he was about to say something, but luckily Mack stepped forward before he could. Quinn had no doubt Finn would just make the situation worse. "We've got a ton of kids, a pregnant lady, back at our place. So we'll still need to get things. Anyplace else in the town yours too?"

The man grinned at her, "Yeah. Anywhere that don't got zombies? That's cause of us. Technically the whole damn town is ours, but if you kids wanna go into a zombie infested building and clear it out, you're welcome to a reasonable amount of supplies as thanks. But don't try our generosity, we'll know if you go someplace you shouldn't."

"How?" Puck asked.

"Does it matter?" The man shrugged, "We're being nice cause you're kids, but if we catch you someplace you ain't supposed to be again, we aren't going to be nice." The threat was clear in his voice, even though he didn't particularly look like he enjoyed threatening them.

Quinn wondered if he'd dismiss them as 'just kids' if he knew what she'd done to Shelby to get her daughter back and safe.

"Message heard loud and clear," Mack shrugged, then turn to the others, "Lets leave, no sense wasting time."

Finn looked like he was about to say something, but Mack's glare stopped him.

They got in their respective vehicles, the eyes of the other group following them the whole way; Quinn could practically taste the unease.

They drove father into the town, finally coming up to a store worth stopping at. A hunting store that had a handful of zombies milling around outside, and two clearly visible in the store itself.

Puck parked a few blocks away in a fenced in car lot, got out of his truck, and once they gathered around him, said, "Alright, we get in, we kill anything that isn't us, we grab everything we can carry, we get out."

Mack looked up at him, "What exactly are we grabbing?"

"Guns, ammo, bows, arrows, knives, batteries, whatever," Puck shrugged, "Looks good, take it."

"Isn't it a hunting store? Won't there be a bunch of camping crap too?"

"Probably, but we don't actually need any of that shit, do we? We've got the cabin," Puck shrugged again.

"Maybe some fishing stuff?" Sam suggested.

"Sounds good to me."

After retaking the cabin, it was almost too easy to take care of the zombies milling around outside the store. Once they were done, (and Quinn was tossing some zombie goop that had landed on her boot, to Mack's amusement) Puck had simply stood next to the front door of the building, then opened it.

The two zombies came rushing out, and were easily taken care of by Jacob (who Mack and then Puck had forced to do something, since he'd spent the time they were taking care of the other zombies filming) and Finn.

They went inside.

Quinn had quickly veered to the Ammo, and started stuffing everything she could into a backpack she'd grabbed as she'd walked through the store, reasoning they could probably find guns, it was the ammo that'd be the problem. Mack must have thought it was a good idea, because she'd copied Quinn's actions. Together, they moved to the guns, where Mack had run off, then come back with two carts. They filled up on ammo, and various odds and ends Mack thought would be useful. Quinn had let her decide what to grab, she'd gotten the main thing; ammo. At the very least, her gun, Sam's shotgun, and Rachel's rifle would have ammo along with the guns Mack had grabbed before Finn and Puck had barreled up to what guns remained in the cases and grabbed them all. Quinn almost told Mack that the rest of the things she'd filled the two carts up with; knifes, bats, bows and arrows, and a whole bunch more was serious overkill, but keep quiet.

They'd finished loading up the cars, and Quinn was starting to let herself relax. The clock on her dashboard said it was almost six o'clock. It'd be dark soon, so they should be trying to find someplace to stay the night and have some dinner.

Naturally, that would be too easy, she thought annoyed a half a second after Finn and Puck saw the game store a few stores down from the hunting store.

"Hey man," Finn grinned and pointed.

"I know! There's one zombie inside, that's a sign we should." Puck grinned back, then they high fived. Then they did an awkward three-way high-five with an unenthusiastic Jacob.

"One zombie that you can_ see,_" Sam pointed out.

"Is that really something we _need?_ It'll be dark soon," Quinn said dryly as Mack softly closed the door to the back of the van, finally finished packing stuff in the back.

"We'll be in and out in half an hour, tops," Puck reasoned, even as he and Finn started walking towards it.

She could hear Jacob spouting some stuff for the camera still in his hand as he moved to follow the two boys.

"Race! Last one there has to play as the chick character!" Puck said, then took off running and laughing as Finn whined "Hey man, no fair," and took off after him.

It all happened so quickly.

One second, Puck had stopped to turn around and mock Finn, the next there was a dozen zombies surrounding him. They'd come from a small alley way that Quinn, that none of them, had seen until it was too late.

Puck got cocky. It was all Quinn could think.

_Puck got cocky._

He'd forgotten that this was a world with zombies; that he'd be looting the game store, not spending some MILF's credit card on too many games that he'd play later with Finn and some pilfered beer.

And now he was dead.

_Dead._

He didn't stand a chance. He barely had time to scream, before they were on him. There was an awful, horrible sound of flesh tearing and being ate, and he still kept screaming. She knew she was never going to get the sound of Puck screaming out of her head, that it was going to haunt her dreams almost as much as the sight of the bits of flesh, his flesh and blood, the same blood running through her daughter's vein's, on the zombies mouths and hands and the ground surrounding them.

After a long and terrible minute, Puck's screams morphed into a painful sounding gurgle, then stopped. She doesn't know if he passed out, or died, and doesn't_ want_ to know. If she still prayed, she'd pray he'd died and wouldn't wake up later as zombies finished off the flesh in his limbs.

The others surrounded her, and dimly she was aware that Finn was screaming Puck's name, Mack was trying to pull her back to the cars, Sam was standing slack jawed, shotgun in his hand and a step ahead of everyone, and Jacob was sobbing into his camera.

"We've gotta get the hell out of here!" Mack finally shouted, grabbing her hand, and Finn's hand, and pulling them towards the cars. Robotically, Quinn started walking towards the vehicles, as the sounds of a minor scuffle ensured behind her, but finally the others caught up to her. Finn was openly crying, tears streaming down his face as he fast walked to the cars; he kept turning back to look at the zombies feasting on Puck, and Quinn couldn't help but feel cowardly next to him. She didn't dare look back, she didn't want to see his body.

As it was, she was afraid that now, whenever she closed her eyes she wouldn't see the boy he had been, or the man he was growing into, but his corpse -straight out of her nightmares, since she didn't dare look, standing up and shuffling after them, needing their flesh and trying to get them to join him.

Quinn got into Puck's truck. She knew how to drive it, he'd taught her. And someone had to drive it. After all this, they weren't leaving it behind. As Mack started the van and started turning around and a still shocked Finn started Burt's SUV, Quinn realized that Jacob had his camera sticking out of the rolled down window, filming.

Probably waiting on Puck's corpse to start walking for his movie, Quinn thought with a snarl. She opened the door, and ignoring Sam's confused look as she stalked past Kurt's SUV, she went to the passenger side, where she grabbed Jacob's camera out of his hands.

"What the hell is wrong with you," she hissed.

"It's...it's important for..future generations. Quinn please don't, that's my mo-" whatever Jacob was going to snivel out was interrupted by the satisfying sound of the camera breaking into a million pieces as Quinn smashed it on the pavement. Ignoring his now louder sobbing, she went back to Puck's truck, and started it.

It was pure luck Puck had left the keys in the ignition, she realized as she pulled her seat-belt on, and after turning around, starting following Sam.

She still didn't dare even look in the mirror behind them as they drove away.


	12. Eye of the Tiger

There were cars coming up the road. Rachel was too far away too see much besides that. She carefully set the sheet she had been hanging to dry (they had a dryer, yes, but as the weather was not yet wet, Rachel did not see the harm in hang drying items while they could, even if things would be chilly and not as fluffy,) back in its basket, and picked Dahlia up from the nest Rachel had made her in one of the larger baskets, where she was playing with…well, more like gnawing, on some toys.

She stood, watching, then relaxed as she realized it was their people returning. She frowned as she, with one glance at Dahlia to make sure she'd be okay for a few minutes, wondered whey they were back so early. Either things had gone very well, or very bad, she thought.

"Nah, pretty much all the shit I got at Wal-Mart and that hunting store isn't useful unless we leave. And I'd rather keep the ammo and food and crap in there just in case." Mack said, reaching out and helping Quinn grab things.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "You really think we'd leave? Really. Why?"

Mack shrugged, then hefted more things into her arms, "You never know what's going to happen. Who expected fucking zombies? "

"How very boy scout of you Mack," Quinn said dryly.

"What can I say, I liked the uniforms."

"Is…why are you back so early," Rachel called, standing at the driveway gate, pretending she hadn't heard their conversation. Her eyes anxiously looked around, spotting Jacob, then Finn, and finally Sam lugging things to the gate. "Where is Noah?"

Quinn looked away, and Mack sighed, "Dead."

Tears came into her eyes, and she wiped them away, "I see. I will go…inform the others."

She then darted away as fast as she could, telling herself that she was just simply needing to check on Dahlia.

Dahlia cooed at her with a gummy grin, and Rachel felt a little better as she picked up the infant, but not much. Tears still streaming from her eyes, she went inside the house to inform everyone that the group was back, and they were down one more person.

* * *

"Finn," Rachel whispered knowing how badly her boyfriend must be feeling. What things they had managed to gather while out on the trip had been brought in and distributed, and they'd quickly exchanged stories of what happened while the other group was away. Understandably, neither side particularly much felt like going into great detail about their respective deaths.

"Rachel," Finn shrugged, and swigged from the six pack that was sitting at his feet. It was all he'd carried from the vehicles; she didn't know where he got it from, likely the hunting and camping store. They were on the porch, Jacob hovering, and Blaine and Kurt having a whispered discussion.

"I need to speak to you, in private," Rachel said, her eyes darting to where Dahlia was nestled in the baby backpack Quinn had collected for her, that was being worn by Blaine.

Blaine, noting her look, stood up carefully, "Uh, we're going to go see about dinner," he said. Kurt nodded, and stood up with him. Jacob didn't seem inclined to leave, so, grimacing, Kurt grabbed his arm and muttered, "You too Jacob."

Ignoring Jacob's protests, the trio left the porch.

Finn swigged from the beer again, and muttered, "I really don't want to talk right now." Then he reached out, and pulled her close, kissing her with a moist, overeager mouth.

It wasn't totally unpleasant, so she went along with it for several moments, before pulling away from him. "I have something I need to inform you Finn, and it really cannot wait," she took a deep breath, and when he didn't answer her, just stared stonily at the beer in his hand, she continued, "You are aware that Mrs. Anderson is dead. Before she died, she very clearly said that I was to care for Dahlia. Naturally, I told Blaine she was not in the state of mind to make a decision like that, and eventually we agreed on a…shared custody of sorts."

"What?" He looked at her with glazed eyes, and she wondered how much he had to drink besides the bottle in his hand.

"Basically, I have a child now, whom I will be sharing care of with Blaine. And, of course, to an extent, you and Kurt. I feel that this is a good chance for us to gain valuable experience, and-"

"So you basically adopted a kid, without telling or even consulting me Rachel? We're supposed to be getting _married_, and having our _own_ kids. Blaine can take care of his sister." He cut her off, and drank deeply from the beer.

She frowned at him, "As I was saying, I feel that I am ready to have-"

He interrupted her again, "That's the problem, Rachel. Everything's about you. Glee Club, our relationship, _everything_. Maybe I'm tired of it being about you, you, you. Puck's dead, my best friend is _dead_, his kid is here without a father now, and Quinn's…who the hell knows. I've got Beth to worry about, hell, I've got _everyone_ to worry about, but you can't even let me relax for an hour in peace, can you? God you're so _needy_. " He hurled his empty beer bottle for emphasis, and it shattered in the corner of the porch he threw it in.

"I will attempt to speak to you when you have not been drinking. I will also be awaiting your apology," Rachel said, clinching her jaw and briskly walking out the door outside.

She didn't know where she was going, exactly, just that she needed to be away from him, away from everyone right now. Tears blinded her, and she didn't intend on going anywhere specific, just not the pond or the fresh grave. Finally, branches scraping against her lightly, she came to a stop a fair distance from the house under a pine tree.

There, she sobbed freely.

* * *

Mack found her eventually.

"Didn't know you liked Puckerman that much," Mack said softly, tossing the blanket she had on over Rachel's shoulders. Then the other girl winced, "Shit, sorry. That was bitchy and he just died."

"It..I am very sad about Noah, but Finn…he.." Rachel couldn't bring herself to explain. Instead, she trailed off, wiped her eyes, and huddled closer to Mack so they could share the blanket.

They stood in silence for several minutes, before Rachel sighed, "I should have given him some time before attempting to speak to him about Dahlia."

"Maybe. But maybe he shouldn't be a dick, either."

Rachel licked her lips, "I don't know how much he's had to drink, but he would not have said anything like that to me when he was not inhibing." Which was true; last time he had a large amount to drink, he had acted the same way.

Mack looked at her seriously, "Sure."

The sat for an uncomfortable silence, before Mack said, "You know that just because there's zombies and shit, doesn't mean that you need to stay with someone you aren't happy with."

"I am very happy with Finn, I love him," Rachel said, her voice going a little high pitched with outrage that Mack would say that. It wasn't like Rachel had many options _before_ there was flesh eating monsters killing people, to give up Finn now, when he was all she had would be foolish, and ensure she spent the rest of her life totally alone.

"Then why were you out here crying?" Mack sighed, "Look, just…ugh. I can't do this mushy crap, sorry Rachel."

"I accept your apology."

Once more silence reigned, before Mack muttered, "I feel bad for Quinn. I know she didn't want to get back together with Puck, but she's still taking his death pretty hard."

"Beth's sake, and all the 'what ifs' I would imagine. Time will be the only thing to dull that wound." The fact that it was another life loss to the zombies, that another one of them was gone forever went without saying.

Mack snorted, "You know, I _almost_ considered repopulating the world with him. For like half a second."

Rachel nodded, staring off into the distance, "While I love Finn, I did occur to me that perhaps he would not wish the dangers of pregnancy and childbirth on me. There was also the consideration that he would not be the best male to father my children; strictly speaking, Finn-"

Mack cut her off, "Are you trying to tell me you considered having a baby with Puckerman because Hudson's an idiot and like, natural selection or some shit? Damn."

"For half a second," Rachel gave Mack a small smile, before frowning at her, "I would not call Finn an idiot, either; it's jus tthat there's so much to consider bringing children into this world now. Instead of a college fund, it's 'Will we have enough food for winter' and other such harsh realities. And I feel terribly guilty that I would even consider having a child with someone not him. "

Mack shook her head, "Berry, don't have a baby. Hell, don't have a baby right now, at least, okay? For all we know the military's got this shit on lock, and this time next year you'll be back on your way to Broadway, and I'll be heading to a college I only got into because my great grand-daddy founded it ages ago."

"I just…" Rachel was not going to admit her deepest insecurities to a girl who just weeks ago was threatening to beat hre up, no matter how close they seemed, to Rachel at least, to be getting.

"I get it, I do," Mack said softly, then even softer added, "Losing a child is…it's the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Even formally happy marriages rarely survive it for a reason. You can survive your dad's deaths, you could survive Hudson's. Hell, you, _Rachel Berry_, are strong and shit; you could survive all of our death's and live. But I'm telling you, you have a baby, only to have it die because it was some fucking zombie's dinner, or some sort of easily presentable disease we couldn't handle because there's no doctor, you won't want to live. And there won't be any five hundred dollar an hour therapists with an array of pills to get you through those worst awful first few months."

Before Rachel could say anything, Mack continued in her normal voice, "Come on, let's go back inside, it's getting too nippy for our blanket." Then stood up and started walking.

Mind racing, as quite obviously Mack had just shared something very personal with her even if Rachel very much doubted the other girl would admit to it, Rachel knew she had a lot to think about as she stood up and went to catch up to Mack.

* * *

Finn, to his credit, did apologize the next day.

She accepted it.

She knew that perhaps she was too forgiving, but he was correct; she was needy and overly centered on herself.

She decided to not bring up having a child or sex, however. Finn would attempt to get her alone every so often, but they would do nothing more then kiss. She had found, to her annoyance, that he would only attempt to assist with Dahlia if he had been thoroughly kissed beforehand.

She told herself that it would be inconvenient and difficult to have intercourse with the lack of a private area to do so without interruption -or Jacob Ben Israel lurking.

Maybe she was punishing him.

Or maybe she was too scared to take that final last leap, and give herself wholly to another person. And certainly, Mack had given her reasons to rethink her decision to have a baby. So she was giving herself time, it was not a choice made lightly.

* * *

Quinn stretched out, the long dress she was wearing covering her sprawled out legs. Beth was next to her, happily scribbling on some paper and babbling nonsense to her teddy bear.

"Hey Monkey, " she said, giving Beth a smile, "What are you drawing?"

"Bear!" Beth said, then resumed her scribbling. Quinn gazed at her daughter, feeling…not exactly happy, but content.

It had been over three weeks since they had arrived at the cabin. And nearly three weeks exactly since Puck had died, she realized sadly, looking at Beth, then a quiet Sarah who was reading on a pile of pillows next to Beth. Santana and Quinn did everything they could to reassure Sarah that they would always be there for her, and that had seemed to ease Sarah's sadness a fraction. Everyone was mourning in their own way, and Sarah was no different.

Nothing of note had happened except for the occasional radio message they picked up; so far it was just the same repeating message that said the same thing they've been hearing. Not that they got radio messages that often, they were deep in the mountains after all.

Emma was their default leader, but she hadn't really been good for much besides cleaning, and somewhere along the way she had become the cabin's maid, as Finn and Jacob just openly whittling in the living room could attest to. Neither boy made any attempts to contain the mess, knowing that Emma would see it, and deal with it quickly. They weren't the only ones who were taking advantage of Emma's problems.

Quinn was fairly certain Terri was the only one who bothered to clean up after herself every time she made a mess. Which was surprising, given how Terri utterly disliked Emma, and just, Terri in general, but when Quinn had questioned her about it, Terri had surprised her.

_Terri paused, setting the dish she had been washing down. Clearly surprised at the question, she put her hands on her stomach, said "Partly, I pity her. She's not well, Quinn. Can you imagine having the problems she does, then the world suddenly turning into a bloody, unsafe germ fest? Partly, we're the only adults here so I am attempting to be friendly, if not friends with her.. And…we both loved Will. She doesn't have anything but memories. I'm pregnant with Will's baby, so I'll always have that piece of him," Terri said, "Always," she muttered determinately. _

_Quinn nodded, she understood Terri, "Shouldn't you say anything to the rest of them Terri?"_

_"Me?" Terri's voice was clearly shocked._

_"Yeah. You're the other adult here?" _

_"Oh sweetie. I'm not leader material, for one. For two, what makes you think they'd listen to me? Third, I…I think if she didn't have a constant mess to clean up…yes, she'd be a little less stressed out, but I truly believe she'd start trying to clean the trees or something." Terri looked down sadly, "I'm hoping she'll kinda…snap out of it, and go back to normal. But without Will…maybe if she had gone with her family…"_

_"Did her family go to a base?"_

_"No," Terri gave a little laugh, "She told me they went to a 'ginger only' underground bunker, and her parents refused to allow Will to come with her, so she went with him. She hadn't expected her parents to say yes, but then again she didn't think Will would leave you kids anyway."_

Quinn sighed softly to herself. Everyone had gone a little nuts. Maybe it was the freedom; free from school, thoughts of college, thoughts of adulthood, no pressure to do anything you didn't feel like doing. Really the only thing they'd done as a group was set up a watch system, and mostly that had been Finn's idea.

She'd read the books she'd brought back with gusto, making notes, and discussing things with whoever would listen long enough. Usually Brittany. Santana had little patience for that sort of thing, and she felt bad about talking about it with Mack, even if Mack had noticed and said she was fine if "Quinn wanted to talk about that parenting crap".

Beth was now very clingy to her; Quinn was proud at how much progress they've made in the last few weeks, even if she was a tiny bit annoyed that now, her whole life seemed to revolve around Beth. It helped distract her from the things she didn't want to think about. Her parents. The zombies. What was happening with the rest of the world. Whether they should attempt to go out and get more things they might need. _Rachel._

She hadn't really even thought about Rachel, she realized with a start, as the other girl came in the living room, holding Dahlia. At first it had hurt too much to think about Rachel, and then Quinn had settled into a routine and there just wasn't room for the want, the need, the ache that came with allowing herself to think about Rachel Berry, let alone making stilted conversation about inane things.

There were bags under her eyes, she was dressed simply in a dress that probably came out of the pile of clothes Emma had deemed acceptable to keep, maybe even the same suitcase as the dress Quinn was wearing. She looked like a nap and a shower would do her good.

"Finn," Rachel asked tentatively, "Could you perhaps take Dahlia? I need some time to myself, to rest and bathe."

Finn frowned, then looked at Rachel meaningfully. He dropped the knife and piece of wood on the coffee table, stood up, and stormed out, a beady eyed Jacob following him.

Rachel sighed.

As she started to leave, concerned, Quinn said, "Hand her to me Rachel, I'll take her."

Rachel looked at Finn's retreating back with a small frown, then she sighed, "Oh Quinn, thank you, but you have Beth, and it wouldn't be fair…although it wouldn't be fair to ask Blaine or Kurt to watch her, they were on watch last night."

"I'm mostly doing it for the rest of us Rachel, you need a shower," Quinn said, smiling to soften her blunt words, "and you may as well have a nap too."

Quinn stood up, and stepping lightly around Beth, went to Rachel and held out her arms. Rachel handed Dahlia over, and said "It's almost time for her next nap, maybe I should just keep her until then, and try to squeeze in a shower while she's sleeping?"

"No. I'll put her down with Beth, she'll be fine Rachel," Quinn held Dahlia close, and turned away from Rachel. She was clearly done talking to her, and hopefully Rachel would get the hint that she should just go already. She heard Rachel give a soft sigh, and say "She already ate, her schedule dictates that right now is Baby Brain enrichment time, singing to her would be sufficient, as I neglected to bring down her toys," then with one last look, left.

Of course Rachel had Dahlia on a schedule. And of course there was baby brain enrichment penciled in.

Quinn sat down carefully next to Beth, "Hey Monkey. This is baby Dahlia. A dahlia is a flower," Beth looked Dahlia with only mild curiosity, babbled something to her bear, (Quinn wanted to giggle as she suddenly imaged Beth gossiping about Dahlia with her teddy bear), then started poking the other stuffed animals piled next to her, clearly done scribbling.

Quinn started softly speak singing _"Istanbul (Not Constantinople)"_ figuring that was educational enough, as she put Dahlia on the floor. Wobbly, Dahlia scooted away from Quinn on her bottom towards the pile of stuffed animals near Beth.

Quinn grinned a little, imagining how much Rachel would have thrown herself into 'Mommy n' Me' classes if things were normal, everything from yoga to swimming to horse back riding, probably, if they had an option.

She could just picture Rachel enthusiastically saying "But Quinn, if she doesn't start horseback riding now, she won't get into a good kindergarten!"

Her grin turned into a frown as she realized, that if things were normal, Rachel wouldn't have Dahlia, and she certainly wouldn't be trying to convince Quinn of anything…except maybe rejoining New Directions.

* * *

Rachel yawned, and pulled the towel wrapped around herself tighter. She had taken a twenty minute nap, then indulged in a quick lukewarm shower. She did feel a little better, though.

She wished things between her and Finn weren't so off. They were out of rhythm. She wondered if perhaps she'd gave in and had sex with him, they'd be more in sync. They had gotten very very close almost a week ago, even though there were thin walls between them and the others, and anyone could enter the room at any moment, Rachel had let the heat of the moment get away from her.

Rachel had been on her menstrual cycle, and even just mentioning that it'd be extra lubricating to Finn had grossed him out so much he wouldn't touch her for two days, not even begging her for oral or hand stimulation which he had taken pushing for the last week (she assumed he had given up on sex entirely for the moment). She had told him to grow up, and likely he was still upset at her for that on top of everything else.

But honestly, he _could_ stand to mature a little bit.

Blaine had been by far, the busiest of them all during the day, (it seemed like he was everywhere, and she wasn't quite sure he didn't have a couple of identical twin brothers running around) and Rachel didn't feel right infringing on his sleep for him to have a turn with Dahlia at night, especially since he usually had a watch duty. Now that they had a routine established, it was easier then the first few nights anyway.

He took her a few hours during the day, and normally that was enough but today she was extra tired. Likely her limited sleep catching up to her or she was catching a cold.

It was quite nice of Quinn to take Dahlia.

An image of a happy, carefree Quinn holding Dahlia, Beth looking intently at the infant in her mother's arms, came unbidden to Rachel. It was a lovely thought, and it was a shame her drawing talent was lacking, otherwise she'd be tempted to put it down to paper for generations to see.

A little shiver went through her as guiltily, she realized that was the first time she'd thought of Quinn as Beth's mother without thinking about Shelby first.

She was still day dreaming when the door to their room opened. She turned, expecting to see Tina or Mack.

It was Jacob Ben Israel.

Rachel scowled, and wrapped an arm around herself to assure herself the towel wouldn't fall.

"Jacob, I certainly have no idea why you would think you could just come in here," she glared at him.

Jacob shrugged, "No rules," and looked her up and down in a way that made her want another shower.

"There are certainly rules, Jacob Ben Israel. Leave right now," Rachel hoped he hadn't heard the thread of fear that laced her harsh tone.

"Relax Rachel, I'm not going to hurt you. That'd ruin any chance I'd have of making beautiful, smart, talented Jewish babies with you," Jacob said, actually looking a little hurt she'd think that, and stepping away from Rachel and towards her open suitcase, which laid on the bed, piles of clothing next to it. She had yet to actually unpack it, and had meaning to do so today, hence the piles of clothing.

He poked through her pile of underwear, and disgust went through Rachel as he said, "So listen. You need help with the baby, help Finn's not giving you and Anderson's too busy being wonder boy. I mean, I'm sure he'd add that to his plate, happily, if you weren't too nice to make him do his share. I'll help for a pair of your underwear a week. Three hours a day. It's not like I'm doing anything else." At Rachel's look, he added, "I'm good with kids! Before the blog was making money I'd babysit to earn cash."

A part of Rachel…a very small part, wanted to agree. It was just underwear, and she…well. She wanted some time to herself, to shower and get some sleep and perhaps read or bring some order to kitchen. Time she didn't have to constantly hover over Dahlia, worrying or wishing. And maybe, just maybe, she could spend some of that trying to mend the cracks in her and Finn's relationship.

Instead, she glared at him, "No. Get out."

Jacob gave her a smile, "When you change your mind, it'll be two pairs a week. Or maybe I could touch a boob."

He went to the door, pausing only to take another long look at her towel covered form before turning back. As he reached a hand to the knob, it opened.

The Mack came in, and stopped short when she saw Jacob. One look at Rachel, clad in a towel, had Mack glaring at him.

"What are you doing in here? Man, it's been a while since I beat someone up and I'm a little rusty," She said, glaring at Jacob, and not letting him out the door.

"Just telling Rachel we owe it to our religion to make beautiful talented intelligent Jewish babies, plus I could satisfy her way better then Finn could," Jacob said, a little sweaty. Obviously he was scared of the Mack. Not that Rachel blamed him, she was a little scared of her too.

The Mack looked him over, then stepped aside without a word.

Jacob made for the door, when the Mack reached out, and hit him solidly. He had a shocked look on his face as he stumbled to the door, and the Mack growled, "Drop them."

The pair of underwear Rachel had taken off before her shower fell from Jacob's hand. Rachel stared at them, slightly horrified, but mostly grossed out. How on earth had he grabbed those without her noticing?

"Don't come back in here, _ever._ Don't so much as look at Rachel, either, creep. Or else I'll use you as zombie bait when we finally go back out for supplies. It's not like anyone would miss you," She sneered, shoving him out the door. Rachel had a glimpse of blood going down his face, his glasses bent and his eye already starting to blacken as Mack closed the door.

"Surely you didn't need to be so violent Mack?"

The Mack turned and looked at Rachel like Rachel had grown another head, "He was stealing your panties. Your _used_ panties. Berry, you can't let creeps get away with stuff like that, 'specially now that there aren't cops to keep the cowardly ones from doing bad shit. Now I'm gonna have to tell Santana and-"

"Oh please don't tell Santana. It's humiliating, Mack." Rachel said, pleading.

"I've gotta tell her, Quinn, and Sam at least. What if Jacob decides that one of the girls would be an easier target then you Rachel? First it's panties…then who knows what. We really need to organize another supply run, how much formula do you have for the kid? We can ditch Jacob there," Mack mused, stomping to her messenger bag, and pulling out a tattered notebook.

"I find it unlikely Jacob would move onto one of the kids, Brittany perhaps, but he has always been mildly obsessed with me," Rachel sighed, "I have sufficient amounts of formula for the next month at least, perhaps two. However, I loath to use one of the brands of formula as it gave Dahlia a rash, so a trip to town in the next few weeks would be nice, but there is rash cream so it's not yet vital." She started pulling out clean clothes to get dressed.

Mack scribbled in her notebook, then frowning, said, "You ever ask Quinn about borrowing one or her adoption books?"

Rachel beamed at Mack, pausing in pulling on her dress, and said, "Not yet, but I will soon. I think I am doing a well enough job adjusting Dahlia to my care; she is young, and I imagine that helps quite a bit. It would be nice to have several books to reference, health books in particular would be beneficial as well."

Mack snorted, "If I get you any baby health books Berry, you'll immediately think Dahlia has every symptom for everything."

Rachel laughed, "Perhaps! Although I like to think I would be more level headed then that." Rachel finished dressing, and turned her back towards Mack, who zipped up the dress for her silently.

"Mack, " Rachel turned, looking at the other girl seriously, "We're friends, aren't we?"

The Mack looked at Rachel, raising an eyebrow. Rachel suddenly wished she had kept silent, it was foolish of her to need verbal confirmation, when they had been getting along so well before. She had ruined what they had, she was demanding and needy and-

"'Course we are Berry. You think I just let anyone ride with me, or share my room, or hell, talk to me?" The Mack said, giving Rachel a grin, like she knew what Rachel had just been thinking. And maybe she did, The Mack, for all her refusal to talk about "mushy crap" was quite intuitive.

"Let's go get some grub, Rachel. You can make that vegetarian stew again, me 'n Tina both thought it was pretty tasty," Mack walked to the door, still holding her notebook and pen.

"Finn did not care for it, but perhaps I can make enough for us, and Quinn as a thank you for watching Dahlia, " Rachel suggested, grabbing a Kent State University hoodie to wear she had snagged at Mack's insistence from the suitcase collection of clothes, even if it was rather large on her. But it was chilly out, and it was warm.

"Finn's an idiot, no offense. If you do that, you should make enough for Santana, Tiffany, Brittany and Sarah too, since it's Quinn's turn to cook for them today," Mack said, closing their door, "Man I wish we had locks. What the hell, I'll add that to the list to, be it wouldn't be hard to get some from the houses around here at least," she put the notebook against the wall, and scribbled it down.

Rachel sighed as one of the rolled up sleeves on the hoodie unrolled, ignored the insult to Finn, and said "Perhaps add safety pins to the list. Although maybe I should just get a hoodie that is sized correctly to me."

Mack dropped the pen and notebook on the floor, and held Rachel's arm, and started rerolling the sleeve for her. "You know why I suggested you grab this hoodie, right?" she asked.

Confused, Rachel said, "I had assumed it entertained you to see me in clothing much too large."

"Nah," the Mack dropped Rachel's arm after a glance at the other one to make sure the roll was tight, and picked up her notebook and pen, "That's only part of the reason. It's getting cold, and it'll be easier to wear Dahlia in a sling or backpack under the hoodie to keep her warm. Shared body heat. 'Specially if we gotta leave here."

Rachel swallowed, "That is a good reason, thank you Mack. Do…you think we'll have to leave?" She wanted so desperately to ask Mack about her baby, or even Quinn, the curiosity was great. She resolved that at five years of friendship, she would ask Mack herself; at one year, she'd ask Quinn.

Mack shrugged, "There's you know, zombies around, so who knows what the hell will happen. And I'm liking the anarchy as much as the next person, but eventually we're going to run out of good food or toilet paper and things are gonna get crazy. You think the arguments are bad now, with everyone making their own food and stuff, wait till we're down to three rolls of toilet paper in a hundred mile radius. I'd rather get outta here before then, find somewhere else."

"Where else would we go?" Rachel followed Mack down the stairs, frowning.

"I dunno. Military base, maybe. Or just find a town that hasn't been completely looted, and stay up in a bank or something,"

The Mack stopped short in the middle of the stairs, and turned around, "Look Rachel, don't worry about it right now. It'll be a long long time until we'll have to leave here, if we have to leave at all. Forget I said anything, okay?"

Rachel let out the breath she was holding, and nodded. Satisfied, Mack said, "Lets go check on the kid, and go get started on that stew. You're gonna need my help if you're making enough for seven, and it's gonna take a while, so I bet we can get some sun while it cooks. "

* * *

Quinn was sunning herself out on the blanket she had put down on the deck for her and Beth. Beth was rolling a ball back and forth to Tiffany, looking very concerned every time the ball was in Tiffany's possession. Every now and then Quinn would have to gently remind her to roll the ball back to Tiffany.

The sky was clear, with no cloud threatening rain for the first time in days, and it seemed like everyone was outside enjoying the sun.

She could hear Blaine chopping wood, and his and Kurt's voices to going back and forth, even if she couldn't make out what either boy was saying.

Tina was sitting on the steps talking in low tones with Brittany while they both took turns holding a string for Lord Tubbington to bat at. Rachel was sitting next to them, and alternated between talking to them, and talking to Dahlia who was scooting around happily.

Mack and Santana were playing BS at the patio set with Sarah, Kyle, Stevie, and Stacy, and making the kids giggle with their playful trash talking to each other. The loser, out of the two of them, apparently would have to be "it" first in the game of freeze tag they were going to play later.

Finn and Sam were throwing a football back and forth, Jacob, his eye black and swollen, the cut on his face bandaged with a hello kitty Band-Aid, was watching them, and flinching exaggeratedly every time Finn or Sam would pretend to throw the ball to him.

Quinn basked in the sunlight, and peacefulness. It was a nice change of pace from the arguments and tension that had been in the cabin. Somehow they had become divided up by room, in some sort of mini tribes so it was nice everyone was getting along and being happy for once. Maybe it was the sunlight. Quinn was sure she had read something, once, about lack of sunlight making people moody.

Quinn's eyes were half closed, and her lids were starting to feel heavy. She was starting to consider taking a cat nap when all good feelings flew out of her as Blaine and Kurt start shouting.

Wide awake now, she sat up. Blaine and Kurt were running towards them, Blaine dropping the axe, as they dashed to the rest of the group.

Behind them, Quinn could see figures looping awkwardly towards them.

"Six..or seven, " Blaine said taking a few deep breaths, "But they're slow."

"I think they broke the fence," Kurt added, turning to stare at the figures in disdain.

Swallowing, Quinn stood up, hitching the long skirt up with one hand and tucking it into her underwear. It looked dorky, but the last thing she wanted was to trip over the dress.

"Get the kids in the house, us guys will take care of 'em," Finn said, puffing up a little with pride, "This is why we have people on watch. Who knows what would have happened if Kurt hadn't been out there."

Quinn decided not to argue, or point out that Blaine was out there chopping wood anyway, and scooped up a protesting Beth, then grabbed Tiffany's hand. Tiffany cowered next to Quinn, obviously picking up that there were monsters near, even if she couldn't see them from her height.

Santana and the Mack both glared at Finn, obviously not happy at his words. Santana's knee was a lot better, even though Quinn knew it still hurt and would take more time to heal completely, but that didn't stop Santana from wanting to "Smash some zombie skulls" as Santana put it.

She led Tiffany to the door, Beth feeling heavy in her arms. Rachel and a now crying Dahlia behind her.

Once they were all in, weapons were collected, distributed, then the door locked, Quinn relaxed a tiny bit, but that didn't stop her mind from flashing through all the what ifs.

What if no one had been out there, and those things had gotten to the house without anyone noticing.

The kids played in the yard by themselves, or with just Brittany out there with them (Tiffany was still clingy with her older sister, but not nearly as much as she had been. Quinn assumed it was just because kids easily adapted to stuff. Hell, she thought ruely, so did teenagers).

It made her want to throw up to think about the zombies coming up and eating the kids, so she stopped.

It hadn't occurred to any of them that there was any danger from zombies in the woods, or that enough zombies pilling up could break any of the fences. Finn had only suggested a watch because it sounded cool and like something Puck would have suggested, she was a hundred percent sure.

Even if someone had suggested the idea, no one would have really known what to do except put more people outside watching when the kids played. None of them had really thought they had anything to worry about out here.

Well, Quinn thought, looking at the faces of everyone waiting in the living room, her gaze finally settling on a worried Rachel trying to settle a now screaming Dahlia, they were wrong.

* * *

Santana stuffed another bite of the stew Rachel had made into her mouth. As she chewed, she could grudgingly admit it was pretty good. She grabbed another slice of fresh bread, and shot Kurt a smirk when she saw him looking at their meal, and obviously comparing it to the...calling it food would be too nice, that Blaine had made them, Jacob, and Finn for dinner.

Good to know Wonder Boy had his flaws after all, she thought, taking a bite of the bread Mack had made after she dipped it into the broth.

She been naturally wary when Rachel had popped into their room and informed them as a thank you to Quinn she'd make their room dinner.

"This is really good Rachel," Brittany beamed at Rachel, and it made Santana smile as she ate her dinner.

"Thank you Brittany. I could not have done it without Mack's assistance; she is quite good at mincing."

Mack shrugged, and lazily said, "All of you remember I'm great with a knife. "

There was a small pattering of laughter, before the sounds of eating resumed.

Santana grabbed another slice of bread, put some butter on it, and handed it to Sarah who smiled, and started eating it, copying Santana's bread dunking motions exactly. Santana took another bite of bread dipped in the broth, and gazed languidly around.

Terri was patiently helping her nephew cut up the veggies and steak the pair of them and Emma were eating. Sam had made his siblings a simple meal of mac n' cheese with frozen vegetables tossed in it. Santana took another bite of the stew, and decided that there was no reason they couldn't start making food with Sam and his siblings too. Hell, it was pretty stupid of them all to make a bunch of separate meals in the first place, but whatever, Santana wasn't in charge. They'd figure something out eventually.

"So I said to her," Mack was saying, and Santana started paying attention as she ate, "That if she wants do it, whatever. But she had to do it outside of the car. That changed her mind right there," Mack finished with a grin.

"Santana do you think Coach Sue is okay?" Brittany asked.

"Tots Britts."

Quinn nodded as she fed a spoonful of broth to Beth, "If anyone is doing alright, it's Sue Sylvester."

"Sam," Stacy's tiny voice asked nervously, "I left my stuffie outside can you get her? I'm scared..."

"Sure thing Stace," Sam grinned, and caught Santana looking at him, winked at her as he got up from the table.

"So you guys wanna play that game after dinner," Finn asked over the table loudly, mostly to Sam.

Sam shook his head no, and said, "Nah, not tonight," as he left the room. There was a chorus of no's which made Finn frown, and resume eating his dinner with a glare at the plate.

Santana ate the last bite of soup, and set her spoon in the bowl. Yawning, she lazily stood up and started limping around the table collecting plates. Yeah, Ms. Pillsbury is going to wash the dishes, probably, but that doesn't mean they can't help her out a little by collecting them.

Sam rushed into the room, wild eyed and panicky, as with a quick glance at his siblings, he blurted out, "There are car's coming up the driveway,"

Santana almost dropped the plates she was holding. All the sound in the room disappeared as they stared at each other.

"Do you think that's more Jones's?" Tina asked quietly, a little eagerness in her question. Santana understood that; they hadn't found Mercedes's body, so there was a chance the girl could come strolling up to them one day, alive and happy to see them.

"Will they make us leave?" Sarah said, already looking close to tears. Santana limped over to her, and wrapped an arm around her, then she bent down and whispered, "Even if they make us leave Sarita, we'll be okay. I promise," which seemed to comfort the younger girl a little even as Santana's mind raced. They had _earned_ this place of safety, they had made it safe and people died to do so. They wouldn't give it up easily.

"Seriously you guys, a lot of cars. Like over a dozen," Sam said stepped further into the room.

"Let's go see," Finn stated, with a worried look on his face.

They walked to the gate as a group.


	13. Ain't No Rest for The Wicked

Rachel instincts roared at her as they watched the cars crawl up the driveway. She turned, and ran back up to the house, rocks and gravel digging into her bare feet. When she finally reached the house, she barely had time to appreciate the warm air inside, or the carpet on her toes as she bound upstairs to their room, where she retrieved her rifle from under the bed. Slinging the strap over her shoulder she raced outside.

She winced as she stepped on a particularly pointed rock, but continued her quick pace.

She reached the others as the lead car parked.

Shivering, from fear or the chill in the air, Rachel wasn't sure, she brought her rifle and aimed it towards the cars.

"Damn Berry, you mean business," Mack whispered proudly as one of the occupants of the first car stepped out holding his hands over his head.

"This is our home, Mack. It is our safe haven in a world where monsters lurking. I will not willingly hand it over it anyone," Rachel stated, adjusting her stance as she stared at the man slowly walking towards the gate, his hands above his head warily staring at Rachel.

He was a slim, white haired older man, with dropping jowls and soft brown eyes. His sparse eyebrows contrasted with his unshaved scruff.

"Woah there, it's okay, I promise," he smiled softly, and lowered his hands slightly, "My flock and I have traveled many weeks to get here."

"How'd you know there was a here?" Mack snarled, crossing her arms.

"One of our members received a message from her sister?" He said carefully.

Quinn licked her lips, and stepped forward, saying, "Frannie?"

"Frannie Harris, wife of Ira Harris," the man said, nodding, "I'm Pastor Zadock. And we are very blessed indeed to have this safe haven."

With a little sigh, carefully, Rachel brought her gun down to her side, and Pastor Zadock brought his hands down. She was still wary, of course, and there was an uncomfortably twist of anxiety in her stomach, but there was no need to keep pointing her rifle at him.

A youthful looking man stepped out of the second car, and in Rachel's opinion he looked too shiny, to put together, and too nice; as if he'd give the warm wool coat he was wearing over to Sam right now if Sam asked him. He also looked similar enough to Mr. Schue he could easily be Mr. Schue's cousin; it made her a little sad and uncomfortable. "Are there any problems Pastor Zadock?" the man called out.

"No, no John, things are under control. Although it would be nice if you could get Mrs. Harris to further prove we mean her sister and the rest here no harm."

"Of course Pastor, " the man, John, said, then bounded down the long line of cars. Minutes later, a pregnant blonde woman came slowly walking up the driveway. Rachel had to stop herself from gasping out loud; she looked like Quinn, of course. That was to be expected if they were sisters. But she looked like Quinn's best self, on Quinn's best day, in Quinn's best year; with the added benefits of pregnancy and motherhood and maturity. Rachel thought Quinn was beautiful, but this woman, she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Quinnie?" Frannie said, stepping lightly to stand besides the Pastor, and shrugging off John's arm, "I hope it isn't a problem, but surely it was God's plan that lead you to messaging me."

Rachel stared at Quinn, as Quinn looked at her sister for a long moment. Quinn finally snapped, irritation clear in her tone, "I invited you and your family, Frannie. Not you, your family and how ever many people you brought with you."

"They are my family, _Lucy_-Quinn," Frannie replied sharply, "And they could be yours too, if you let them. We are all God's children."

Quinn shook her head, "A warning would have been nice at least."

Frannie smiled sadly, "I lost my phone. It was stolen. We've had so many troubles out on the road, it was truly a…" she paused to put a hand on her baby bump …rather dramatically, Rachel thought, "a blessing to find out we had a safe area to go to." Rachel almost had the feeling Frannie was playing up some role, specifically to the people that had kept coming out of cars and gathering to watch the scene unfold. She mentally shaked that thought off as silly.

"So, Lucy Quinn, perhaps you could find the key, and we could pull into the driveway? I know many of us are severely anxious to get off the road," Pastor Zadock prompted.

"It's just Quinn, or Q, dude," The Mack spoke up from next to Quinn, "And we're kinda already stuffed in the cabin like sardines already."

"Of course. We wouldn't want to put anyone out of their rooms. We have tents and a few RVs and trailers. That should be sufficient. It was a blessing all the pregnant members of my flock survived, and I do hope there is room for them and the younger children somewhere in the house," Pastor Zadock replied, an questing look on his face.

Emma had been silent the whole conversation, and finally spoke up, "The attic's empty, and it has stairs. I finished cleaning it yesterday…"

"Well then, isn't that a blessing indeed," Pastor Zadock said, giving the motley group in front of him a smile that showed off his slightly yellowing teeth. Next to him, Frannie's smile, Rachel noticed, almost seemed to show too many teeth.

* * *

They ended up using one of the bigger vehicles to just ride through the gate and knock it down. Rachel had stood with the others, and awkwardly watched on the side of the driveway, clutching her rifle loosely as the cars and the occasional RV poured through the now open gate and parked in a semi organized manner around the back of the house.

When the last vehicle finally went through the gate, they barely had enough time to follow before someone parked their car to block the now open space.

The sun was starting as they stood and silently watched tents pop up, children set free from vehicles to run around the property cautiously, and people walk the fence line.

Emma had, looking a little dazed, lead a group of women into the cabin which had seemed to give permission to all to enter the lower levels willy nilly. Rachel was a bit annoyed and more then a little uneasy, but reasoned that they had been on the road for weeks, and of course they could use the rest rooms in the house. Mack likely felt the same way, as with a frown she'd slipped off into the cabin; Rachel had no doubts she was ensuring people did not stray into their bedrooms.

They had huddled together watching the activity around them, until the man- Pastor Zadock motioned everyone to him. He stood on the hood of a station wagon, and once most of the group (and from where Rachel was, it looked like an awfully lot of people), he said, "We will immediately need to begin planning. There's a winter garden, of course, as well as several outhouses to be made. I'm afraid that the bathrooms in the cabin will not be sufficient for everyone. And, naturally, we will need to build an area of worship. We will rest for a week, just do simple needed chores before we start building. We will also have to start sending out groups to gather items to bolster our supplies." He turned and addressed Rachel's group specifically, "I would just like to thank you all for inviting us into your home. We'll be eating dinner soon, and of course you are all welcome to join us."

There was murmurings and nods from around Rachel. She too, found herself nodding her agreement. Of course, they had all already ate, but she, personally, felt it would be rude to reject their offer. Likely the others felt the same.

* * *

It was a few hours since Frannie's group had arrived. They'd all had a few bits of the canned corn with tuna and rice that Frannie's group had made to be polite; well, Finn and Jacob had ate heartily, and Quinn didn't really blame them much, since their dinner hadn't looked good. At all. Slowly, they'd felt comfortable enough to separate and mingle, and Quinn had left Frannie for a bit to let her older sister get settled in the attic. Not that everyone would get to sleep up there; not even close, since turned out there was over around three dozen cars, and over seventy people along with a motley collection of pets, chickens, and even a few goats. It really felt unreal, like a dream.

Taking a deep breath, uncertainly churning her stomach, Quinn held Beth and made her way up to the attic where Frannie was unfolding blankets. "Is that..?" Frannie asked, putting a hand on the small swell of her stomach, looking at Beth critically. Quinn nodded, unable to find any words to say as her nerves twisted up her insides. "She's beautiful," Frannie finally said, awed, before adding bluntly, "I'm not going to mince words Quinnie, Ira's uneasy about you. He's worried you'll be a bad influence."

Quinn swallowed, "I…just want to be a good mother to Beth, make sure she's well taken care of. And I want us, and my friends, to be safe. "

"I think that's all anyone wants right now, " Frannie said solemnly, then softly added, "It's a shame you're doing this on your own. I don't know what I would do without Ira. Children need two parents, especially now."

"Um, yeah. Noah was really trying, and…" Quinn trailed off, and looked away, absent mildly stroking Beth's hair, the twisting feeling in her gut felt stronger.

Frannie said gently, "It's a shame about Noah, Quinn. But at least he wanted to do right by you in the end."

"Yeah, he was a good…guy," Quinn said lamely, her throat dry. Silence settled around them for a few minutes, as Frannie went about making up her family's space.

Finally, Frannie stopped plumping one of the pillows that'd be used for one of her kid's beds, and turned to Quinn, looking serious, "I'm sorry if it was a little over whelming to have so many people arrive so suddenly."

Quinn set Beth down on the bed Frannie had made for Ira and herself, and turned towards her sister, shrugging, "What's done is done. All that matters is that you and the kids and Ira are here safely. I know we haven't always gotten along, but I hope that we can be a family again Frannie. You and Beth and Sarah are all I have left now that mom and dad are …gone."

"Oh Quinn, you have me, Ira, the kids, and the whole flock. I wasn't kidding about them being your new family if you would let them. I know you and God haven't been best friends fore eva lately, but…" Frannie said, trailing off.

"Did you just say BFFs? But weirdly? Is there a video you watched on how to recruit teens?" Quinn asked dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"A pamphlet, actually. Did I sound hip?" Frannie grinned.

"You sounded like a mom trying to be cool. Which is totally weird, since you're only six years older then me and shouldn't be so lame."

"I am cool!"

They bickered back and forth playfully, Quinn's spirits rising, even if the conversation was still a bit stilted and awkward. This was almost how they used to be, and she ached with gladness that they seemed to be on their way to being back to how they were, her previous uncertainty all but forgotten.

Finally, Frannie got to what Quinn could tell was annoying her. "So…" Frannie said quietly, one hand on her stomach, the other fussing with her braid, "How did you end up with Beth anyway."

Quinn shrugged, "Shelby -the woman I gave her too, moved to town. I was worried, so I went over there. She was bit, I took Beth."

Frannie looked at her seriously, "You're lying Quinnie." Quinn didn't look at her sister, she busied herself unfolding a blanket.

"Whatever, no I'm not Frannie."

"You are. You think I can't tell when you're lying, Lucy? Really? It's been a while, sure, but you're still my little sister and I know you like the back of my hand, even if you're hiding behind pink hair and a bad attitude."

Quinn licked her lips, "What does it matter, Frannie? I have my daughter back, that's all the matters."

"Did you kidnap Beth? Sneak into Shelby's home, and steal her baby away while her back was turned and she was otherwise occupied?"

"Beth's _my_ baby. I should have never gave her away," Quinn snapped.

"So why does she still ask for her mommy when you are right there?" Frannie asked smugly. Quinn glared; Beth had only done that a couple of times the last week, and naturally she had to do it in front of Frannie.

"She'll forget Shelby eventually. And it'll be like I never gave her up."

"I'm sure she will, eventually," Frannie's slim fingers moved from her braid to link with the fingers sprawled on her stomach, then she gently asked, "There's no danger that Shelby's going to come driving up here, wanting her daughter back, is there? She doesn't know you're here with Beth? And there won't be an apocalypse custody fight?"

"_My_ daughter. Shelby's dead, she's not going to ride up here anytime soon."

"Dead?"

"I told you she was bit," Quinn forced herself to look her sister in the eye.

Frannie was silent for a moment, contemplating, before she said, "And I told you, I know when you're lying."

Quinn didn't say anything, and Frannie added in a harsh whisper, "Lucy Quinn Fabray, did you kill Beth's mother?"

"I'm Beth's mother."

"You did. I didn't know you had that in you," Frannie said shaking her head, "But then again, we do what we must for our children, don't we."

"You won't tell anyone," Quinn's voice broke, so she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and tried again, "You won't tell anyone, right? I did what I had to do, she was going to get Beth, _my baby_, killed." Quinn didn't like the pleading tone she was forced to use.

"I think, " Frannie said slowly, looking at Quinn seriously, her eyes darting to Beth, "A mother has to do what she feels is best for her children."

Any further conversation was interrupted by a slew of children and other women coming in the room.

* * *

Change had crept up on them slowly like fingers along a lover's thigh, Santana thought as they watched the bustle of activity. Then snorted to herself, (causing Mack and Sarah both to give her looks) because that sounded really poetic and sappy.

It had been a few days since Frannie and the rest of them had arrived. Santana didn't mind that they took over the kitchen duties; sure, it was kinda annoying that Santana couldn't have what she wanted when she wanted, but whatever, it made sense to do everything as a group.

Then suddenly Santana found herself and the others assigned to work. Which, whatever, also made sense. It was better then the lazy, do whatever system they had.

Even if she was really really irritated that she'd been denied guard duty, or going out for supplies. Not because she was still a tiny bit injured -no, because she was a woman. Well, girl. Whatever.

Sexist bullshit, but she wasn't going to rock the boat just yet. Her and Mack had already decided to figure out a way to fight back a little, but hadn't come up with any good ideas just yet. They figured Pastor Zadock was key.

They had at first thought Pastor Zadock was in charge, but that assumption had been quickly corrected. Frannie's group, due to the size (79 people, not counting the seven babies six women were pregnant with,) had quickly realized that was just too much weight to put on one persons shoulders, so they had added four people to help Pastor Zadock with the burden of leadership.

Quinn's sister and brother-in-law were in two of those positions, heads of Household and Guards.

The other two positions were heads of Supplies, and Sundry.

Household dealt with things like food, laundry, schooling the children -basics that had to get done.

Supplies organized supply runs, made sure everyone had everything they needed, and keep up on the calculations to ensure there'd be enough of everything.

Sundry was items that didn't fall into the other categories, really, things like building, or gardening or water.

Pastor Zadock acted as the tie breaker if there needed to be one, otherwise it was his duty to tend to the spiritual side, and also keep moral up.

Every group needed the other, and it was a good system, from what Santana had seen so far.

She didn't quite like having so many people here. First it was the little things, like not seeing Brittany much during the day since they were on different work duties. And yeah, she really didn't like being told what to do.

Mostly, she was scared to hold Brittany's hand. And she hated that.

The religious stuff was pretty damn annoying too; Santana hadn't really thought much about God before, and now her only thoughts about him was that if he was real, he was a dick. Rachel had quietly suggested they all attend the bible meetings and prayer meetings though, to fit in. Santana had freaking_ bible homework._

Santana thought it was a bunch of crap.

This was _their_ home. Quinn's sister was lucky they hadn't been turned away. They shouldn't have to fake enthusiasm for the bible and pretend prayers were going to do anything or whatever just to fit in.

"Well at least they build some out houses first," Mack muttered as they kept watching them build covered stage.

Santana shrugged, "At least they haven't kicked us out of the house."

"Stevie and Stacy told me that Sam tried to get a puppy from someone, and they would only let them have it if he gave up his room," Sarah said quietly, "They've really wanted a puppy for ever, but…they couldn't afford it before; and they can't now since Sam doesn't want to give up their room."

"You want a puppy?" Santana asked, leaning against Sarah.

"I…yeah. But not enough to give up our room," Sarah shrugged, then sighed and softly added, "Puck said he was going to talk mom into getting me a dog for my birthday."

"March, right?" Santana asked.

Sarah nodded.

"Well, I'll see what I can do."

"Worst comes to worst, we steal a puppy. We'll have to hide it forever, but," Mack added, grinning at Sarah.

Sarah shrugged, "Thanks. I mean, it seems stupid to want a puppy now. I'm too old, and the world's too dangerous for puppies."

"It's not stupid, you're a kid. Kid's want dogs and candy and crap." Mack muttered.

Sarah shrugged again, and they resumed watching the building in silence.

Santana glared grumpily at the builders, even though she knew it wasn't their fault Sarah was starting to become jaded. Probably she was hanging around Santana too much.

"Yoohoo," A shrill woman's voice cooed, and the trio turned to find a portly woman, complete with a plush sweater and a "I'd like to speak to the manager" haircut come up to them.

"Have any of you seen those siblings? The one's who take care of their younger sister? I wanted to speak to them. Well, probably I should speak to them first, but I'm just so excisted to add them to our fmaily if that's what they want. God hasn't given me and my dear Bob anymore cihldren then our little Betty, but I had a dream and I'm certain He wants us to adopt them." She smiled toothily at the trio.

Mack had her eyebrows raised, and seemed to be in shock.

Carefully, Santana said, "You mean Blaine and Rachel, and little Dahlia?"

"Ohh, yes, there's so many names to remember. Do you know where they are?"

"Speaking to the mothership, probably," Santana smirked, "They aren't siblings. They're a new alien species of hobbits sent to earth to see what happens if one of their children was raised here."

"Um," the woman looked at Santana like she clearly thought Santana was nuts. Santana didn't care. Grinning, she continued, "Seriously, check their feet. And if you ask them, they'll tell you they aren't siblings."

"Um," The woman looked at Mack and Sarah helplessly.

"Check their feet!" Santana stepped closer to the woman, and she must have gotten scared, because she mumbled something, then practically fled from them.

Mack rolled her eyes at Santana, and Sarah just shook her head. Santana grinned wider at them, and they resumed, once more, watching the builders.

* * *

A full week had passed. Quinn stood outside the RV Pastor Zadock had borrowed for privacy, breathing in the fresh night air. He had been shocked to learn that none of them had counseling to deal with what had happened, when Ms. Pillsbury was their former school counselor.

As Emma went inside, taking her turn, Quinn started walking back to the cabin and her daughter, mulling over Pastor Zadock. She had her doubts; she'd assumed that he wasn't going to be helpful.

The first thing he had asked was what did she miss most, excluding her parents or friends that didn't make it. Then he had laughed when she had immediately answered "Bacon." He had assured her that they would find pigs eventually and she'd get her bacon.

Then he had asked her about the cabin, how it had been with just two adults, none of them anyone's parent and so without the authority that carried. Before long, he was explaining the tentative plans to get the cabin and the property functioning for so many people, and the people they expected to come; survivors, and more children. Children, he had explained, were going to be key to survival. At her confused look, he had pointed at that without hope for the future, there was no point in surviving.

Before long, Quinn found herself talking about her nightmares, the guilt, and a whole list of other issues, even tentatively some things from before zombies started eating people. She had him gravely thanking God, and saying it was a blessing they had arrived when they did, as Quinn and her whole group were a bundle of issues. Then he had went on to assure her that there were many people who needed counseling, not just her or even the people from her group. That what had happened was traumatic and life changing and everyone needed a little help sometimes and it was nothing to be ashamed of.

Quinn had promised to attend the tri-weekly bible sessions when he had suggested it, and had swore she wouldn't miss her weekly counseling session with Pastor Zadock. He ended their session with a joke the first building that was going to be built was going to log cabin office, so he could give the Bowen family back their RV, and that'd it would be more comfortable then a tent he'd be forced to use otherwise for his counseling sessions.

Quinn felt…she felt great. And she felt actually happy for the first time in a long time; instead of the dull emptiness there was…hope and happiness. She was ready to put her faith in God again. With her burdens placed on God's shoulders to help lighten her load, she felt free.

She stopped short at the porch steps, and stared at the window to their room for a moment. She smiled at the shadows behind the curtains, then went to join them. Her daughter and her friends were waiting.

Quinn Fabray was happy. For the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to tomorrow happily, and starting to feel confidant in God and the people around her.

* * *

Quinn's new duties were rotated between child care for the younger children, and helping with the prep work for the planned winter garden. Her free time was spent with Beth or Frannie, usually them together. She hadn't really had time in the last week to spend with her friends, even at night she was too tired to say more then a few words to them or Sarah before she fell asleep. A wave of guilt went through her, and she promised herself she'd some time for them after her meeting with Pastor Zadock. And time for Sarah especially.

Beth was with Frannie, and it made Quinn so happy at how quickly Frannie had taken to Beth, constantly cooing over the toddler, saying how beautiful and smart she was.

Smiling at the thought, Quinn stepped into the garage, which was serving as Pastor Zadock's office, making use of the furniture they had taken out of Sam's room.

"Hello Lucy-Quinn," Pastor Zadock said with a smile. Quinn felt a ting of annoyance at being called Lucy, but squished it down. Frannie, and thus near everyone not in Quinn's original group, had taken to calling Quinn "Lucy-Quinn" and Beth "Elizabeth" too, and Quinn knew she needed to have a talk with her about that. Beth's name was Beth. Well, Beth Louise Jackie, for Puck, since he had wanted Beth named after Jack Daniels when Quinn was pregnant, and his mom after all this. She wasn't going to call her daughter Beth-Jackie…BJ...that was just gross.

And Quinn hadn't been Lucy in a long time.

She took a seat where he indicated, smoothing out her dress as she sat.

"How have you been Lucy-Quinn?" Pastor Zadock asked, leaning forward over his desk with a smile.

Quinn shuffled a little in the lazy-boy she sat on, before answering, "Good, I think."

"You think? How are your nightmares?"

"I haven't had any for the last week." Since she had told Frannie what she had done to Shelby, actually. The fact that she hadn't had any nightmares since then wasn't lost on Quinn, further cementing her choice as the right thing to do, even if a part of her still thought it was dumb to tell anyone. Quinn played with a frayed edge of the dress she was wearing. She had picked a dozen of the dresses and added them to her things, before the clothing from the suitcases had been added to the community pile that was set up in the other side of the garage.

They talked for nearly an hour, before Pastor Zadock started winding things down.

"Do you want to talk about anything else?"

Quinn bit her lip, "Yeah. Kinda."

Pastor Zadock gave her a warm smile, "Remember, unless if affects everyone somehow, like you thinking about poisoning the water supply for a bigger share of pudding," he grinned, before turning serious, "Anything you say here is completely confidential. "

Quinn looked down, "I…" Quinn took a deep breath, thinking of Rachel's wide eyed, shocked look, her cheeks flushed after Quinn had kissed her, "I did something. I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway. It felt so right at the time…" she trailed off.

Pastor Zadock looked at Quinn for a moment, "Did this thing hurt anyone?"

Quinn's throat was dry, as she replied, "Yes," thinking about how hurt Finn would be if he knew she had kissed his girlfriend. But mostly about Rachel herself. Rachel hadn't deserved to have one of Quinn's issues dropped on her shoulders like that. And Quinn had wanted to hurt Rachel, afterwards, with the knowledge, had wanted Rachel to treat Quinn like Quinn deserved.

"If you could go back in time, would you not do this thing?"

Quinn thought for a moment, before finally answering, "No…I…I had to do it for me. I _had_ too." It was selfish, and inconsiderate of Quinn, she knew that, but at least now she knew what Rachel's lips felt like, what Rachel looked like after being kissed.

"Well…would you do this thing again?"

"I…" Quinn didn't know. She'd like to say of course not, but that would only be lying to herself. Finally, she shrugged and said just that, "I don't know. I know it's wrong, and I shouldn't, but I don't know if I would or wouldn't do it again if I had a chance."

"Well," Pastor Zadock was interrupted by a knock on his door, "Oh dear Lucy, I believe we have gone over our time. Please think about telling me what the 'thing' is, next time okay?"

Quinn looked down, "I'll think about it, I guess," and shrugged. Hesitant, she almost asked him to call her Quinn, but decided to wait until the next one on one meeting she had with him.

She made her way outside, ignoring Ira's steely eye glare he gave her on his way inside.

The Mack was waiting for her, to her surprise.

"Hey Q," The Mack was casually leaning against the wall, dressed in tight jeans, a tank top, and an unzipped hoodie. It was chilly out, and Quinn tried not notice that it was making parts of the Mack make their presence known. "Figured I'd catch you after your meeting with the big P. Unless your sis is gonna pop up outta the bushes, it'd be nice to get some Q Mack time in."

Averting her eyes, feeling the blush stain her cheeks, and ignoring the Mack's knowing smirk, Quinn said, "I was just thinking about how I've been neglecting you guys. Sorry, I'm going to do better."

"You better, " The Mack looked at the garage, "That Pastor Zadock's sessions are something else, huh? Dude had me talking about W-…my baby before I even realized it. Told him everything, even stuff I haven't told you," she said softly.

"Oh Mack," Quinn wrapped an arm around Mack, and they leaned against each other. After a few moments, Mack pulled away.

"Enough mushy crap, lets head inside, see if there's any stuff left from breakfast. Maybe even snag an egg," Mack grinned at Quinn, "I haven't had eggs in forever it feels like."

The handful of the families in Pastor Zadock's congregation that had chickens had combined the flocks together so that they'd be able to breed them, and get meat chickens and a lot of eggs out of them eventually. Between the stressful time the chickens spent in a horse trailer while Frannie's group made their way here, and the weather, they were only putting out half a dozen eggs a day, and even less were expected as the weather got worse. Quinn had been absolutely thrilled when Frannie had given her a fried egg yesterday morning. Usually what eggs there was were reserved for the pregnant women.

"I...don't know Mack," Quinn said, frowning, "I was going to see if Frannie want-"

"You know," Mack spat out, interrupting Quinn, "Since your sister's come here you've been like, her little shadow following her around. Hell, when was the last time you wore a pair of jeans? You need to figure out who you are, and stop trying to be who you think everyone wants you to be Q. Next thing you know you'll be asking for some dye to get rid of the pink in your hair, because _Frannie_ doesn't _approve._"

Quinn winced, because Frannie _didn't_ approve of her pink hair, and Quinn _had_ been thinking about getting some hair dye. "That's not fair Mack," Quinn glared at her. Maybe Quinn had been spending most of her time with Frannie…yeah, maybe even following Frannie around a little, but still.

"Life's not fair Q. " The Mack looked at her seriously, then walked away, leaving Quinn standing by herself shivering.

* * *

Quinn frowned, as Frannie's eldest, four year old Jeremy pulled a toy away from Chris, who was barely a year old, who promptly smacked his brother with a wooden block. Beth held her favorite teddy bear, and watched the pair wide eyed.

Frannie's boys were very…spirited. Frannie had a very "boys will be boys" mantra for them that didn't quite sit well with Quinn, especially since two year old Abigail already had her own chores and seemed to be able to play quietly by herself. Quinn had noticed that anytime she paid the older toddler any attention, Abby seemed to just flourish and bloom. She really was a sweet girl.

Quinn had the feeling that Frannie didn't pay much attention to Abby, and so far she hadn't seen anything disproving that.

They were in Quinn's room, had been for nearly an hour now just talking. It thrilled Quinn to her toes that she could talk about mommy stuff with Frannie…even though a part of her mourned that she hadn't been able to talk to her about pregnancy stuff, or about Beth's earlier months.

"No way Mack, " Santana said as she opened the door and came inside.

"Way. Just like it's bullshit we can't go on a supply run and _Hudson_ can. What we lack in dicks, we more then make up for in brains, especially compared to him, " The Mack replied from behind Santana, "And it's not like Quinn and me haven't already gone to a city for supplies. You think Hudson and that Creep would have made it back without us?"

The Mack came in, saw them, and scowled at Frannie and Quinn both, and turned to Santana, clearly intent on ignoring the Fabray sisters. How, Quinn didn't really know, considering the room was small and full of children.

Frannie had other ideas, "I think it's time for mid-morning snacks Quinn, so I'll just take the kids and head up stairs…" Frannie didn't really like Santana or Mack. And Quinn could see why, she could. Making the trio…not friends, maybe, but definitely able to have a civil conversation was going to be hard, but Quinn figured she had nothing but time.

"They don't bite, you know," Quinn whispered, raising an eyebrow, then louder said, "If that's what you want to do."

"I can take Elizabeth, if you like, " Frannie offered.

Quinn was free until lunch time, and considered it for a moment before shaking her head, and saying, "Thanks, but I think I'll get some Mommy/Daughter time in."

"Are you sure? You could get started on a book, relax a little."

"I'm sure, thanks," Quinn smiled at her sister. It was really nice of her to offer.

"She's so beautiful Quinnie," Frannie said, smiling down at Beth.

"That's like the ninety-seventh time you've said that Frannie," Quinn laughed, and helped Abby pack up her rag doll and the doll's clothes into Abby's plain pink backpack.

"Well, it's true," Frannie sighed, "Abby is clearly going to have our old nose, but I guess that's the risk one takes. I had already started saving up so she could get surgery when she's sixteen, but I guess she's stuck with it now….This girl, though, she's going to be gorgeous. Are you _sure_ you don't want me to take her?"

The Mack gave Frannie a disguised look, "Jesus, she said no like a ton. Take the hint already. Also her name is _Beth_. And wow, that's a shitty thing to say about a perfectly cute two year old."

Clearly offended, Frannie gathered her trio, handling Abby way too roughly in Quinn's opinion. As she herded her kids outside, she shoot back at Quinn, "You really need to think about the people you hang around with Lucy-Quinn."

Raising an eyebrow as the door closed, Quinn turned to the Mack, "Really Mack?"

"She was being a bitch, and super pushy. Your kid, your rules. You said no once, that shoulda been enough. Also you're developing like this weird eye twitch every time someone says "Elizabeth" or "Lucy,"" Mack said, shrugged, then added, "Speaking of bitches, sorry I was one earlier."

"Well…thanks, I guess. Poor Abby's going to have some issues when she's older," Quinn frowned. She'd have to try to talk to Frannie later about being kinder to her daughter. Or at least laying off about her looks.

"Wow you two, gonna make out now or something," Santana asked, wiggling her eyebrows, "Wanky."

Quinn threw a pillow at her. And then threw one at the Mack for clearly telling Santana about the time they made out. Laughing, she picked up Beth so they couldn't retaliate. As her friend's promised revenge at a later date, holding Beth, Quinn felt the happiness that she had been feeling all week fill her up even more, moving to the missing pieces inside her. This was what she had been missing, her friends. She swore she would stop neglecting them so much for her sister.

* * *

"That was…" Kurt clinched his jaw, he stopped where they had been walking, halfway between one of the fields and the cabin, and turned to Rachel, "I'm not going to the next one."

"Kurt…I too feel as though the prayer meetings are not geared towards me, and that they are rather hateful at some points, but it's best none of us do anything to…stand out, " Rachel replied, frowning. This was the third prayer meeting they had attended.

Rachel had attempted to suggest it move towards a more…nondenominational orientation, and be a bit kinder, but had been brushed off and ignored.

Kurt snorted. It irked Rachel, but she didn't blame him. She had found, after skipping the first prayer meeting, that while it wasn't mandatory, it was heavily suggested you attend as she had found herself ostracized socially. Not wanting a repeat of high school, she had attended the next meetings, dragging Kurt along with her.

"I am being serious Kurt," Rachel sighed, "I will attempt to speak to Pastor Zadock about having prayer meetings for those who fall into the 'other' category, perhaps with him in attendance so that the rest of the group do not think less of us."

Kurt kicked at a dirt clod, "You know, when I thought about the end of the world I figured I'd be hiding out in some off Broadway theater, wearing the latest designer clothes I had looted from stores and spending all my time with Blaine. Instead, I'm stuck with some religious rednecks who I can't even hold my boyfriend's hand in front of, because I'm more scared of them then I am the zombies," Kurt's voice wavered, and then he angrily spat out, "Not that Blaine has any time for me _anyway._"

Rachel sighed, "Blaine has certainly been keeping himself very busy, isn't he?" Blaine had barely made time for Dahlia, and Rachel was certainly feeling it.

"He's as upset about things as the rest of us," Kurt sighed, "So he's keeping himself busy to not think about it. I'm trying to talk him into talking to Pastor Zadock, but he's insisting he's fine. You know they aren't taking him on the supply run tomorrow? He was disappointed, but I'm _glad_. He already does enough around here, the last thing he needs to be doing is risking himself like that. But they're taking Finn, and I know he won't be able to pick out the right face cream so I'm not even going to bother to ask him…and Rachel, are you alright?"

Rachel's face had morphed into horrified shock. "Finn's going on tomorrow's supply run?" She asked.

"Oh. Uh, yeah…he didn't tell you?"

Rachel swallowed, and looked down at the ground, "Clearly, no. I am sure it simply slipped his mind."

"Yeah, that's it. Or he just didn't want you to worry yourself thinking about it for three days…" Kurt said, trying to be helpful.

"Three days…" Rachel whispered. He knew for three days, and he didn't tell her. Tears pooled in her eyes, and Kurt cursed, and reached over to comfort her.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sure he just didn't want you to worry, why don't we go find him okay? We can go find Blaine, and cross check your lists so you don't send him off to get duplicates of things for Dahlia alright?" Frowning, Kurt gently starting guiding her towards the cabin, "Santana was asked about you and Blaine, someone thought you were siblings raising a younger sibling? She was pretty sure they wanted to adopt all three of you so she told them that you two were alien hobbits, sent to earth with a test baby to see what would happen if your species was raised on earth. Kept insisting the poor soccer mom check your feet until the woman told Santana never mind and practically ran away." He finished with a little laugh.

Rachel unwittingly laughed herself, and tried to get a hold of herself.

It took Rachel nearly half an hour to find Finn, and when she did she was shocked to find him speaking to a pretty blonde girl who was likely only a few years older then them. Gearing herself up, she stomped over to him.

"And that's why I think Tim Tebow is definitely still alive," the blond was saying in a musical voice as Rachel went up to them. Rachel couldn't help herself, for a second she wondered if the blonde was a good singer. If she was _better_ then _Rachel._ But she shoved those thoughts aside. It didn't matter anymore.

"Finn," Rachel said trying to keep her voice clear of emotion, "We need to have a discussion."

Finn looked from the blonde to Rachel, and back again, "Uh okay Rachel. I'll talk to you later Eve, okay?" He gave the girl a smile, and put an arm around Rachel's shoulders. Rachel pulled away, and grabbed his hand, briskly leading him away from…Eve, and to a semi private area.

"When, exactly, were you going to tell me you were leaving tomorrow?" She said, turning towards him with a glare.

Finn shuffled, then finally shrugged, "When we finally got to spend some time together, probably."

"You did not think that maybe, just _maybe_ about speaking to me before you signed up to leave our safe haven to go out into the zombie infested world? After what happened to Noah the last time we left?" Rachel tried to keep her voice low, knowing that there were many many people around just looking for gossip. Besides, Finn didn't respond well to yelling.

"Like you asked me about adopting Dahlia?" He burst out, scowling.

Rachel took a deep breath. She wondered how long he was going to rub Dahlia in her face, as this certainly wasn't the first time he had done so in the last month.

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't say anything, okay? I'm leaving in the morning, early, and I don't want us fighting…just in case." Finn looked at her, pleading.

"Very well. We will certainly resume this conversation after you are home, safely, tomorrow night or the next day," Rachel said, sighing and standing on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, "I have a list of things I would like you to gather for Dahlia, even though Quinn did a sufficient job gathering things last time. We will need to cross reference it with Blaine's so there's no duplicates. You also need to speak to Sam about things for him and his siblings, and perhaps Tina too. "

"I already got a list from Sam, " Finn said proudly, "Could you get one from Tina for me?"

As she nodded, she couldn't help but feel hurt that he seemed to have spoken to everyone but her about going on the supply run.

* * *

Quinn smiled at the chattering five year old twins as she reached across the table and helped a seven year old pour some water out of a pitcher for his four year old brother.

It was lunch time, and she was almost done serving lunch and watching the four kids she had been assigned to. Frannie (even if they were three of her children, and she had swopped in and snagged Beth,) Brittany (who had Sarah and Tiffany), Emma, Terri and Tina (who had Stevie and Stacy in her group) were on kid duty right now too, along with a few other girls Quinn hadn't really gotten to know very well. Mostly because they had been giving her a bit of a cold shoulder, and she couldn't be bothered trying to figure out why, or how to stop it. She assumed it was the pink hair.

"Ugh, I can't wait until this baby is out of me. On the one hand, I can't protect her as well if she's out here. But on the other, she won't be on my bladder anymore," Terri said, grinning down at her stomach even as she put a hand protectively on it.

"Well, when she's outside she'll have many more people assisting you," Emma said, then with a frown quickly wiped up some water one of her kids had spilled.

Terri snorted, and then hissed towards Emma, "Yeah, but she might end up a child bride." Emma tisked at her, and Terri started gently teasing Emma that Pastor Zadock was sweet on her (apparently Zadock had brought her some sort of cleaning supplies or something, Quinn only caught part of the story.) Quinn smiled at Sam as he came up to her.

"Hey Q," he nodded, and reached over and ruffled Stevie's hair, reaching for his biscuit with the other, causing Tina to roll her eyes and smack Sam's hand. He popped back over to Quinn, and started speaking in low tones to her.

"So hey, did you give Finn your list?" He asked, taking the glass of water she offered him.

She shook her head, "No. I didn't think there was anything Beth and I really needed, I mean I want some more pretty dresses for Beth or some leggings but that can wait."

"Yeah, I get you. They offered me a spot to go on it, you know? But I just couldn't risk not coming back…it's different when it was just us, but..." He trailed off, and made a silly face at Stacy, "We've got enough stuff anyway. I better get going, I just wanted to check on them…I've got my turn with Pastor Zadock. Thanks for the water Quinn."

Quinn simultaneously waved him off and helped "her" kids start stacking their empty dishes, then helped them get washed up, and _then_ helped them find siblings, and parents. By the time she was done, Frannie had already taken her kids and Beth up to the attic.

Quinn cleaned up, taking off the colorful apron that signified she was on kid duty. People…well women, to the Mack's, Santana's, and Rachel's outrage wore white aprons when on kitchen duty, bright colored ones when on kid duty, and dark colored ones when on supply duty. Maybe Quinn was old fashioned, but it wasn't that big of a deal to her.

"Oh, hey Quinnie," Frannie looked surprised to see her.

Quinn raised an eyebrow at her, "Hi Frannie. Just here to get Beth, how'd she eat?"

"Oh, she was fine," Frannie said, then hesitantly added, "Why not let her stay with me the rest of the day? I'd be happy to take her."

"I was actually thinking I'd take Abby, and the three of us could hang out the rest of the day, then have a sleep over tonight?" Quinn suggested. She really wanted to give Abby some time away from her brothers, time she could just enjoy not having to compete for their attention.

Frannie frowned, then smiled brightly, "How about I take Beth today, then you can have Abby tomorrow?"

Quinn agreed. She would have rather taken Abby tonight, but sometimes it wasn't worth arguing with Frannie about. The pair chatted for a while longer, eventually Frannie shooed Quinn out, as the elder blonde Fabray said, "I'll take care of her, don't worry."

As Quinn headed to her room, she mused on Frannie. She needed to work on being less meek around Frannie, she knew. She knew she did it, but even knowing that couldn't stop her from automatically moving to the position of 'Frannie's Little Sister' and going along with everything Frannie wanted. She was Quinn Fabray, former Head Cheerio, she needed to act like it more around Frannie.

In the hall on the second floor, Quinn spied Mack heading towards her room.

"Yo Q," Mack said, seeing Quinn and stopping. Quinn caught up to her, and lightly bumped her with her shoulder.

"You know, you don't have your kid to hide behind right now, right?" The Mack grinned at her.

Quinn laughed, "I can take you any time Mack."

Mack's face grew serious, and she pulled Quinn into the room she shared with Rachel and Tina, "Listen, " she whispered, "I'm thinking about leaving."

Quinn stared stonily at Mack, "Mack, they've only been here a week, I know that.."

"I miss my family," Mack blurted out, interrupting Quinn, looking intently at the wall.

"Oh," Quinn was at a loss of words.

"Well," Mack drawled, seemingly composing herself, "Miss a bit strong of a word. But I keep having nightmares. I figure I could swing by the base they went to, check out things. And hey, maybe the base will have more news from the President," Mack paused, looked at Quinn, then added, " I think you and Beth should come with me. I was gonna see if Kurt and Blaine wanted to get outta here for a bit, between the four of us she'll be safe."

Quinn stood, shocked for a moment. Finally, she sighed, "I just can't take the risk Mack. It's too dangerous out there, and…and I'm happy here, okay?"

Mack shook her head, "Are you always like this around your sister, or what."

Quinn looked down, "No…well, maybe? I've based my entire self around trying to be being a better version of Frannie, and when I'm around her I..I just.."

The Mack shook her head, "That's another reason to leave here. You aren't yourself around her."

"You think I'll find out who I am if I'm away from the safety of the cabin, with my daughter to protect?" Quinn said dryly.

Instead of feeling an ounce of shame at her earlier words to Quinn, the Mack grinned. "Probably."

Quinn shook her head, "No, I can't risk Beth like that. It's just too dangerous."

"And probably they wouldn't let us back in, " Mack snorted, "Can you not mention the crap in my van? I know they've been sniffing around, but they're not gonna unload any vehicle that's not officially community property. Yet, anyway."

"Why?" Quinn didn't really remember all that Mack had anyway.

"Cause. If we gotta leave? We'll need that stuff, " The Mack started rumpling the pillows on her bed.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "You're going to drive Rachel crazy if you keep messing up your bed like that," she said. She felt that the stuff needed to be added to the community pile, at least most of it. But she'd keep quiet, for now. It had only been a week, The Mack would feel more at home in a month or so, and realize that leaving would be dumb.

"I know," Mack grinned, then scooted closer to Quinn, "Wanna make out? Stress relief. "

Quinn flashed back to the last time they had made out. She had had a dream about Rachel the night before. The Mack had asked her why she was in such a shitty mood, then had suggested they make out. Quinn, still new to the Skanks, had only done so to further distance herself away from Head Cheerleader Quinn, and cement her spot in the Skanks.

The Mack was a great kisser. Quinn had enjoyed it. A lot. They hadn't gone further then that, mostly because Quinn had freaked out a little at how much she had enjoyed it.

A noise from the doorway interrupted them. They both turned, and Rachel picked up the things she had dropped.

"I am very sorry for interrupting," Rachel said, before scowling, "But this is the room of _three_ people and an infant, so kindly go make out somewhere else."

"Are you grumpy cause you're jealous you ain't getting any from Hudson, or because you wanna kiss Quinn, or hell, me?" The Mack grinned.

Rachel set down the pile of stuff she was carrying, turned on her heel, and stomped out, clearly not bothering to dignify Mack with an answer.

Quinn figured it was just annoyance on Rachel's part, but that didn't stop the flutter of hope that flit through her.

* * *

Rachel hurried away, blushing but still annoyed. She didn't have a moment to think about Mack's words before Finn came down the hall towards her, excited.

"Rachel, guess what? Pastor Zadock said he'd marry us. Our names will down on the list for a cabin and everything!" He looked at her, and she felt her heart melt, Mack's words forgotten.

"That is great news Finn!" she smiled at him, happy. It hadn't been an easy month, and it was nice to finally get some happy news. Then a thought occurred to her, and she asked, "How will he be incorporating my faith Finn? Or will it be a nondenominational ceremony?"

A little excitement left Finn's eyes, "Oh. I didn't think to ask. But they have a tent for us Rachel! We'll be able to sleep together at night, without anyone else. I was already looking at spots." Rachel knew the all weather tents were limited, so it was nice that Pastor Zadock had said Finn could have one.

But she still had concerns, "I do not think that sleeping outside would agree with Dahlia," she said, gently reminding him about the baby, "Nor do I feel the polyester compares to the safety and security of strong walls."

"That's just it Rach," he grinned, "The guys who go on the supply runs get first dibs on the canvas wall tents. A lot of them are single, so there's enough so we get one!"

"That would be considerably safer and warmer, " Rachel acquiesced with a smile.

"Yeah! Come on, let's go find Pastor Zadock, he can probably marry us tonight!" Finn said, grabbing her hand and leading her outside.

Rachel would have preferred to have time to prepare, to dress up, and have her friends present…but, the other part of her pointed out, Finn may not come back tomorrow.

It didn't take long for them to find Pastor Zadock, who was apparently finishing up settling a dispute between tent neighbors.

Finn greeted him, and they made small talk for a minute before Finn said, "So Rachel and I were wondering if we could get married? Right now?"

"Ah, young love. I understand of course, with tomorrow's run would you want to do so," Zadock smiled at them. Rachel felt it was genuine, it warmed her, giving her hope.

"Yes Pastor Zadock, I was thrilled when Finn told me he had spoken to you about it. I was wondering if there was some way to incorporate my Jewish heritage in the ceremony? I am certainly not expecting a very long ceremony, of course, but…" Rachel said, giving Zadock her best stage smile.

A little of the warmth left Pastor Zadock's eyes, "I'm sorry Rachel, I was under the impression…well. I'm afraid I can't marry you two unless you convert. "

Rachel gasped, "I..can not do that! I've always dreamed about raising my children Jewish, and-" her voice faltered.

Finn reached out and held her hand, pulling her close.

"I think you two have some things to talk about, so I will speak to you, both of you, at another time. I am sorry Rachel," Pastor Zadock said with a sigh, and shooed them away.

Rachel sucked in air, in the way that let her know she was about to start bawling as they walked away, the stress and little things about the last week finally adding up into what would, she thought ruefully, be a good cry.

"Oh Rachel," Finn said when they were back at the cabin, in the empty hallway on the second floor, "It'll be okay." He pulled her close.

She cried for several minutes, just letting it all out. It was nice to be held while she did so.

"So you convert. It's not a big deal Rachel, you don't have to mean it," Finn said when Rachel finally pulled away from him.

Rachel gasped, and glared at him, "It is a big deal Finn Hudson! "

"I thought you wanted to marry me and have kids Rachel? If that's what we have to do, then that's what we have to do," Finn shrugged.

"I do want too Finn. But I've always dreamed about raising my children in the Jewish faith. And that's more important now, then ever."

"So you raise them secretly Jewish or something. I mean, there's nothing stopping you from being Jewish again after we get married," Finn frowned, "I think I've got to go Rachel. Mr. Mullins wanted to have a meeting with everyone who's going tomorrow before dinner. Just think about it, okay?"

Finn didn't get it, Rachel thought morosely as he left, barely acknowledging as he kissed her on the forehead. She leaned against the wall, and slid down it, staring out the window and mechanically smoothing out her dress. Maybe he didn't get her, either. She had thought he was perfect for her, that he was her soul mate…but surely her soul mate would understand why she was so upset, and how much it meant to her. That she absolutely couldn't be secretly Jewish behind close doors.

"Hey Berry. Your room's thatta way," Santana's voice came mockingly after Rachel had sat there for several long minutes.

Rachel ignored her.

"You alright?" Santana asked finally, squatting down to look Rachel in the eyes, making sure Rachel couldn't ignore her.

"No. Why do you even care Santana. We are, perhaps acquaintances at best as you have toned down your dislike for me considerably, but we are certainly not friends," Rachel said, wiping away her tears. It was ingrained in her to not cry in front of Santana, even after all that had happened.

"Well, for one, I like you better then like sixty people and probably billions of zombies," Santana smiled, "Two, us minorities gotta stick together. We should get Tina, start a club. Maybe get Blaine and Kurt."

Rachel couldn't help herself, she laughed.

Things would work out, she decided as Santana reached a hand out to help her up. Somehow, things would be end up exactly as they should.

* * *

She went to find Finn. She needed to explain to him, to try to get him to understand her feelings on this. Perhaps she was too upset to speak to him, but she did feel a little calmer, ready to handle things logically and with compromise.

Finn was just leaving the tent the men going out on the supply run had gathered in for the meeting. She smiled softly, and headed towards him determinedly.

Her steps faltered, as she watched Eve rush towards Finn, and laughing, leaned against him way too closely, speaking to him in a low tone.

She grit her teeth, and briskly walked to them. Giving Eve the best stage smile she could, she nudged her way in between them.

"Finn, I was just looking for you," She said brightly to him, causing Finn to look at her confused. She turned to Eve, "Ava right? I'm terribly sorry, but Finn and I must leave. We have our _wedding_ to discuss, please excuse us."

"It's Eve…" Finn muttered as she pulled him away.

She was going to lose Finn. Not to the zombies, or some fool with a gun and more bullets then sense. No, she was going to lose him to a pretty blonde. Her stomach churning, she lead him to the house, and her room.

Quinn and Mack were gone.

She pushed him inside, towards the bed.

"We are going to make love, Finn. I love you too, and it's time," She stated to him, looking at him with her best seductive face. She knew it was her best, because she practiced it in the mirror. She turned from him, and spread a clean sheet on the top of the bed, then wedged a chair under the door knob for security.

"What? I love you too Rachel, but I thought…" Finn looked confused, but excited.

"Who knows what will happen while you are gone, Finn Hudson. Things will work out, they have to. I will not lose you too." Not to zombies, and not to tall pretty blonde girls who were everything Rachel wasn't.

* * *

It had lasted for roughly four minutes. She, to her disappointment but not her surprise, had not had an orgasm. She resolved to speak to Finn about it thoroughly next time. He'd started to fall asleep almost immediately on their bed until she'd roused him, and pushed him off towards the master bathroom, telling him to shower.

She took the shower next to her room.

She could be pregnant right now. Well, likely not, as she was fairly certain she was not in her fertile period, but still. There was a_ chance_. That thought calmed the uneasy feeling she had that she had just made a rash error, fraught by envy and the fear of being alone.

She put her hand on her stomach, and smiled. Then frowned, as she wondered what she was going to do with a toddler and a newborn, as certainly Blaine would still be too busy to do much care for Dahlia, and she highly doubted Finn would help much. Although maybe he would if she had his baby.

She put her forehead against the window in the bathroom, and stared across the lawn at the various tents around the house. There were children running around, and she sighed. Plenty of women had handled multiple children under five, and she certainly would be fine. This was a safe space, and there were plenty of people around.

"Rachel?" Quinn's voice interrupted her musing, and wrapping the towel around her tighter, Rachel opened the door a crack to peer out at Quinn.

"Mack wanted to know if you wanted to borrow her spare pair of sneakers, since you only have your hiking boots, and "a lot of useless crap shoes" to quote her," Quinn asked, amused. Rachel had been embarrassingly thrilled to find that she and Mack shared the same smaller shoe size.

Rachel was sure it was her imagination that Quinn kept catching herself darting glances at the wet towel Rachel clutched to herself.

"I believe I shall, yes," Rachel said finally, after a too long pause.

"Are…are you okay Rachel? You shouldn't worry about Finn leaving tomorrow, he'll be fine, they aren't going to let him do anything stupid." Quinn muttered.

Rachel stepped aside, and allowed Quinn into the bathroom, closing the door behind the pink haired girl.

"Forgive me if this is too personal, but I must speak to someone about it," Rachel started, then took a deep breath, "Finn and I made love. I could very well be pregnant right now."

"You and Finn had_ sex_? Without protection?" Quinn said faintly, "Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"Yes. I believe a baby will be welcome and-"

Quinn cut her off, "You had sex because you want a baby? Jesus Rachel, how selfish are you? Bad enough we've got to worry about Terri and the other pregnant women too I guess, now you too?" Quinn's jaw clinched, and she ran an annoyed hand through her pink locks.

Rachel took another deep breath, and exhaled through her nose slowly before she said, "Finn could easily die tomorrow, look at what happened with Noah! And do you truly think I decided to have a baby without thinking things through? That I do not have a plan, and multiple lists, and-" She did have lists, true, but she'd put them aside and had not looked them in quite a while.

Quinn flinched at Noah's name, then spat out, "Oh you've got lists, that makes it okay. _Rachel._ You could be _pregnant._ There are zombies eating people, and you want to bring a baby in this world? Are you still so in love with yourself and your lists and _Finn_ that you've forgotten how dangerous it is out there?"

"Of course not Quinn, please do not be cruel. As I said, I am likely not to be pregnant right now, it is not the correct time in my cycle."

"That makes it any better? "

"This, frankly is none of your business anyway Quinn, and I'm sorry I could not contain my excitement and brought it up."

"Rachel-"

"I have made it quite clear I love Finn, and if I want a baby with him that is no concern of yours. Once more, I apologize for telling you."

"No concern of mine? Damn it Rachel, you do realize that were all in this together right? That it's not just the Rachel Berry Show."

"We did not even share meals before your sister arrived unless it was arranged beforehand. We may have been living together, but we are very much not a functioning group. I am going to apologize for the third, and last time, for telling you about this Quinn. I'm sorry. Now please go so that I may finish dressing." Rachel pointedly turned her back on Quinn. With a sigh, she heard the other girl open the door.

"Rachel, please please think about this seriously again," Quinn said softly as she left Rachel alone.

Guilt cursed through Rachel. She should not have brought it up with Quinn, and frankly, she had acted rashly and without forethought, purely from fear and envy. She sighed. What happened would happen, and she would just have to learn to not make decisions in the spur of the moment.

* * *

Quinn tugged on some knee length socks she were pretty sure were Rachel's that Brittany had borrowed, washed, and hadn't yet returned.

Ira stonily stared at Quinn as she tugged the socks on, Quinn trying not to let the hem of her white dress raise too high over her knees. For all the time she had spent with Frannie, Quinn hadn't been in Ira's presence more then it took the man to wolf down a meal, spend a little time with his sons, and get going to whatever he had to do.

Ira and a couple of men Quinn vaguely recognized were on the guard had come to their room after dinner, saying Quinn was requested by the committee heads. Quinn had no idea why the five would want her, or why Frannie hadn't said anything when Quinn had said good night to Beth just minutes before.

"Uh, here Quinn," Santana said, looking at the three men cautiously while handing Quinn a sweater.

Quinn murmured her thanks, and pulled the ivory cable knit sweater on. It had been one of the nicer finds in the suit case clothes, and the three of them shared it, jealously making sure it wasn't stained. It was warm, and stylish enough that Kurt had lamented not finding it first.

She pulled on her boots, and walked past a worried looking Brittany, giving the other blonde a smile. Quinn didn't think there was a reason to worry, and it was silly of Brittany to do so.

Neither Ira or the guards spoke to Quinn as they lead her to the smallest of the RVs, which the committee heads had decided to use as their meeting place. Partly because it was barely bigger then Zadock's garage office, and partly because it was the head of Sundry's RV and he had happily donated it for their use.

Ira opened the door for her, and closed it firmly behind himself as they stepped inside, rudely pushing past her to take his seat.

The RVs inner lights were dim - there was too much connected to the solar panels, and Quinn knew from Frannie that the committee was having trouble getting people to stop using the electricity so much, that after weeks without it on the road they were gorging themselves.

Quinn wondered who was with Beth and Frannie's kids, as she smiled at her sister.

"Lucy-Quinn Fabray, Sister Harris has said you've confessed something most disturbing to her, " Pastor Zadock's words rang out and seemed to curl around Quinn, his usually smiling face sad and solemn, as he nodded at Frannie.

"I'm…my sister murdered a woman, and stole her child. I'm sorry Lucy, but I just couldn't keep your sins inside. I had to tell them. I hope they forgive you," Frannie's words spilled out, tears in her eyes.

Quinn could see the gleam though in them. It was a familiar gleam, one Frannie had gotten often as she recounted some sort of high school event or another to their adoring mother. Frannie's stories always had two things in common -Frannie saw something she wanted, and she got it.

Frannie always won. _Always._ Prom Queen to Head Cheerleader to…everything.

Oh how Quinn had relished gaining Head Cheerleader in her freshman year, a full year earlier then Frannie had managed. How she had rubbed it in a miserable pregnant Frannie's face, enjoying as their mother had turned that adoring look at Quinn. At little Lucy Quinn, who was never as pretty or thin or smart or…who had never been able to compete with Frannie before.

Quinn's heart racing rapidly as Frannie recounted their conversation where Quinn confessed to her what she had done to Shelby, twisting Quinn's words deftly into something awful, somehow even more horrible then what had actually occurred.

Barely able to breath, she listened as Frannie finished by saying Quinn couldn't even handle Beth, that Beth was asleep with Frannie's own children right now, and it wasn't the first time Quinn had pushed Beth's care on Frannie since they had arrived.

The world turned in on itself as Pastor Zadock recounted the last conversation he had earlier that day with Quinn, saying he had wondered what Quinn had meant, but that it was obvious she had meant killing Shelby. That she had said she would have done it again scared him, and made him fear for everyone.

They discussed her, and she could barely listen. He had thought she was talking about Shelby? That was ridiculous. She opened her mouth to say it was Rachel, that she had kissed her, but no words would come out. She couldn't tell them. She could barely tell herself.

All she could manage was to let out a low guttural moan when the committee came to a decision, by majority vote.

Lucy-Quinn Fabray was to be exiled, sent out in the world for her sins.

"We will sleep at night knowing that it is not quite a death sentence, you have a chance. If God sees fit to forgive you, then he will guide you to somewhere safe, somewhere not here," were the last words Quinn heard as the world finally, blessingly faded into darkness.

* * *

**A/N:** As I said before, they're teenagers, and people and they make mistakes and do stupid things. Actions have consequences in this story; they aren't going to get away with everything just because they're the main characters.


	14. Stayin' Alive

"We are not monsters. We will drop Lucy off as close to Harkervillle as we are able. And we will give her enough food and water to last for a few weeks. We will even allow any belongings she wishes to take, except for her gun and vehicle," Pastor Zadock said sadly.

Santana clinched her fists, anger cursing through her. Next to her, Sam looked confused and upset.

Quinn killed Shelby to get her lizard baby back. And now she was being exiled from the only safe place they know of. The safe place _they_ had made safe.

"What about her daughter," a voice from the gathered crowd, only about half of the total cabin population asked. It wasn't anyone Santana recognized, not really a surprise considering. She _was_ a little surprised that anyone not from the original New Direction group cared enough to bother.

"We cannot, in good consciousness, allow her to go with Lucy. She will be well taken care of by Frannie and Ira, who are quite taken with the girl. It their duty as Lucy's sister and brother in law, of course. But Frannie definitely would not mind another daughter, considering how outnumbered her and Abigail are," Pastor Zadock finished with a small smile, causing a pattering of laughs. Santana couldn't believe that people thought his lame joke was funny enough to laugh.

Santana's anger, in general and at the good brother Zadock calling Beth Elizabeth, when both him and Frannie had been told a few times that Beth's name was _Beth_. Well, Beth Louise Jackie or whatever order Quinn had decided on. Santana had called Beth BJ fora when Quinn had mentioned she was adding Jackie to Beth's name.

"What if we don't want to be here without _Quinn_?" The Mack asked from her spot on the floor, on the other side of Santana.

Brother Zadock gave a sad little sigh, "Lucy-Quinn is being exiled as punishment for her crimes. She will not survive long unless it's God's will for her to do so. And we will need every pair of hands to survive." There were several nods in the gathered group, and even a few murmured amen's.

"So you're saying we can't leave if we want to, even if ya prettied it up," The Mack said, glaring at the man and standing up, "That's _bullshit_. I'm not staying another night here. I'm taking my van, and leaving. You can't stop me from meeting up with Quinn, either. I'm not drinking your kool-aid, Martin _Urban_. Yeah, I looked at your driver's license. "

Pastor Zadock, or _Martin_, Santana added snidely to herself, looked sadly at The Mack.

"…I understand your reluctance to stay given Lucy's situation. Friendship, especially in these dangerous times, is not something to be taken lightly. In these times, another tomorrow isn't a guarantee. But it's simply not going to happen," Pastor Zadock sighed again, "I believe we all have things we need to be doing right now. Please inform those who aren't in this meeting, and ask that they pray for Lucy-Quinn."

Santana stood up, angry thoughts whirling inside her.

Santana, Mack, Kurt and Sam, with a frowning Rachel following them, went upstairs.

"This is bullshit," the Mack said, glaring at the affronted church lady who had huffed at her for cursing as they walked by.

"I do not think they fully accounted for Quinn's mental state, " Rachel murmured with a frown, once they were in Santana's room, as Mack helped her take Dahlia out of the sling Rachel had been wearing her in. The infant cooed at Rachel as she set her carefully down in Beth's portable playpen with some age appropriate toys. Rachel smiled at her, then sighed and turned back towards the quartette.

"We should get Quinn, and leave," The Mack stated.

"It's…unsafe out there Mack," Rachel frowned, "And surely once they hear the circumstances that forced Quinn to shoot Shelby…"

"Don't tell me your drinking the Kool-aid Rachel, I thought you had more sense than that. They don't _care_. Today, they kick Quinn out. Tomorrow, we're outside in tents. Day after tomorrow? Brainwashed child brides or something," The Mack said, scowling as she sat down on the bottom bed.

"I agree with..Mack," Kurt whispered, "I don't know if it's safe to be around Quinn, but"

Santana turned to Kurt in rage, interrupting him, "Safe to be around Quinn? _Safe to be around Quinn? You-"_

"Santana, calm down. You're being kinda loud, someone's gonna come up here," Sam said quietly.

Santana bit back her rage, still glaring at Kurt. Yeah, she was pissed at Quinn, but never for a second, even after hearing what Quinn had done, did she think Quinn would do the same thing to anyone around here. Not even to Jacob Ben Israel.

"Kurt, Quinn killing Shelby was brought upon by trauma and other factors, she was not in a good state of mind. I very much doubt she would do so again, given the choice and her better state," Rachel said.

Santana looked at Rachel critically, "What would you know about Quinn's state of mind Berry?"

Rachel took a deep breath, "Quinn had previously informed me of what she had done."

Santana stared at Rachel, "You _knew_?" she demanded icily.

"That is what I just said, yes Santana," Rachel said calmly, "Quinn threw the information at me after I took her gun away from her…she thought Beth was dead, and…well, she thought I would react very strongly to her telling me she murdered my birth mother. I set her straight on that point, and forgave her. I also suggested, a suggestion she clearly did not take, that we tell no one."

Santana glared stormily at Rachel. Quinn had told Rachel but not Santana, had told _Frannie_ but not Santana. How could Quinn be that stupid? If you straight up _murder_ someone for their kid (and Beth _was_ Shelby's kid by then,) you don't tell _anyone_. You'd think Quinn would have learned to keep secrets by now.

"Dudes," The Mack cut in, "Look at the big picture here. Yeah, Quinn obviously screwed up big time, but something's rotten in Denmark, and it ain't the zombies. I say we blow this joint. We made this place safe, we can make another place safe. Or hell, check out one of the bases."

Santana took a little satisfaction in that Quinn had obviously not told Mack.

"As I was _saying_," Kurt said pointedly, looking at Santana, "I don't know if it's safe to be around Quinn, _but _I do think we should strongly consider leaving. So I agree with Mack."

"I'm okay with whatever," Sam shrugged, "I'm scared of what's out there, sure, but I know I can keep my siblings safe with you guys wherever we are."

"I think you are all being a bit ridiculous, " Rachel said, shaking her head, "And letting conspiracy theories cloud your judgments. Once the committee heads hear the facts, they will be forced to realize Quinn should not be exiled, and rescind that decision."

"And if they don't?" Santana demanded.

"Then of course, with proper planning, we will leave. We simply will not make it without a plan that ensures we are all well fed, watered, sheltered, healthy, and protected," Rachel responded.

The Mack punched one of the pillows on the bunk bed.

They all turned to her. After a few moments, Mack said, "She's gonna need someone to watch her back, and keep her from going off the deep end."

Santana frowned, "Mack's right. Q's gonna be in a bad place."

Mack nodded, "So I'm going to grab Beth, sneak out to my van and meet her there. Rachel how long do you think it'll take to get out of here?"

"A week, perhaps two. Maybe a month? But as I said, surely they will change their mind. And Mack, I do not think you going alone with Beth is the best idea," Rachel said, pale at the thought.

"Berry's right, that's dangerous as shit," Santana scowled.

"I can probably get Mack some guns, " Sam added tentatively, "And I think the two of them, even with Beth, can handle themselves until the rest of us join them." Of course Sam could help with that, since he had access to them because he was on Guard duty.

It still irked Santana that no ladies had been allowed on the supply run, or in the guard group. Hell, that wonder boy _Blaine_ had been denied for either. She wondered who she and Mack had pissed off so badly that the pair of them were on two shifts of garden duty, cold and dirty work, instead of only one shift of that, then a shift of something else like Quinn had.

"Are all of us going?" Kurt asked, "Of course Blaine and I are in."

"I've got to talk to Brittany, but I'm pretty sure we're in," Santana said. Christ, how was she going to tell Brittany Quinn murdered Shelby and was going to be exiled? And that's assuming the news hadn't made it to her already. The women in the kitchens were a bunch of gossips.

"I will have to discuss with Finn when he returns tonight, or perhaps tomorrow if he needs to rest, " Rachel said with a sigh, "But for now consider us in. Even if I maintain you are being ridiculous."

"What about Tina? Terri? Ms. Pillsbury?" Sam asked.

Santana shrugged, "I doubt Terri or Ms. Pillsbury would leave with us. Terri's pregnant, she's like a god to these people, plus they have like, a midwife which is more then we can offer. I'll talk to Tina."

They were silent for a moment, before Mack said, "That Jacob creep is being left here."

Santana barked out a laugh, "I don't think anyone objects to that."

"Right. I'm going to go out to my van, make sure it's good to go. Santana, can you guy get Beth's stuff ready and Beth?" The Mack said, daring any of them to argue.

Santana nodded her agreement.

Rachel sighed, and said, "Very well."

"Good. After I prep, and get the kid, I'll leave before dark. If I can't sneak Quinn out, I'll meet up with her tomorrow when they ditch her. We'll wait around in Harkerville for a week or whatever, two. Alright? One of the buildings by the water tower. If you guys don't show up by then, well…" The Mack shrugged.

"Are you going to need any help?" Santana asked. She wasn't worried if Mack did get caught, since Santana was sure all they'd do was make her copy bible scripture, or something.

"Besides Sam getting the guns and you guys packing Beth's stuff and getting Beth? Nah, I got this. Easier then the time I "borrowed" my mom's car, and half the liquor cabinet, for a weekend without her knowing," The Mack grinned at Santana.

Santana watched the others leave, then punched the pillow Mack had hit, a few times.

Santana had thought it was basic knowledge that if you murder someone, you don't tell anyone. How could Quinn have been so _dumb_?

* * *

Santana crept along, Sarah behind her. It was later that night, and they had packed up Beth's things to give to Mack, plus Beth herself. Which hadn't been easy, but luckily Frannie and Ira were busy and the girl babysitting hadn't been hard to convince that Sarah, as Beth's _other_ Aunt, wanted to spend time with her. The five of them would meet Sam at Mack's van where she'd get the guns, and leave -with Sarah.

Rachel had tried to say that Sarah shouldn't have anything to do with this, that even using her to get Beth was risky, but Santana had shrugged her off. Her mom and brother were dead, Sarah Puckerman's only family was now Beth, Quinn, and Santana and Brittany. Maybe Finn. And it'd be easier on Mack and Quinn if they had someone to watch Beth while they were out doing whatever. Plus Sarah wanted to leave now, anyway. So that was that.

Santana was more than a little freaked out at the thought of Sarah going out there, but if anyone could keep her alive it was Mack and Quinn.

Santana, and Sarah were about to step out from the bush they had been waiting behind to join Mack when a cold voice stopped them in their tracks. Santana had to reach out and quietly pull Sarah back next to her. Sarah looked at her with wide, fearful eyes, and Santana slung an arm around her.

"And just what do you think you are doing," Frannie's voice asked crisply.

"Getting the hell away from this place and your_ face_," Mack drawled.

"Always such a smart mouth, I'll have you know most of this face is either Surgeon or God given, and thus perfect," Frannie stepped closer to Mack, and cocked her head to the side, "Did you know that SIDS is God's way of saying that he made a mistake, that some people aren't meant to be mothers?"

"How the hell?" Mack spat out, but even from their hiding place Santana could see the tears pooling in her eyes and falling down her face. Next to her, Sarah gasped.

"Our dear Pastor was concerned about you, dear. So naturally, he told me. Not only am I the elder, and wiser sister of your closest friend, I am also the leader of the women's group, and a _mother_." Frannie matched her drawl to Mack's earlier one, make Santana squirm a little.

"Was anyone one else foolish enough to assist you in your foolish little endeavor to leave our little safe space?" Frannie asked curtly.

"Nope. They all said it was safe here, and it'd be stupid to leave," Mack lied smoothly. Santana knew it was for their benefit. This was Mack's way of saying, _"Stay where you are, I got this." _

"Oh, I was hoping you'd say that," Frannie sighed happily, then pulled something out of the sleeve of the shawl she was wearing. Before anyone could do anything, she shot Mack in the heart.

Sarah stiffened, and then put her hand over Santana's mouth to stop her from saying anything.

Santana stepped forward, shuffling a sleeping Beth to her other side. She didn't know what she'd do exactly, but beating the crap out of Frannie, pregnant or not, sounded like a great idea. Sarah's hand gripped her wrist, too, and she looked at the younger girl. Tears were falling out of her wide fearful eyes, as she shook her head no. Santana grit her teeth, and sighed, but stepped back next to Sarah, and slung an arm around her again, pulling her close.

So she was forced to watch Frannie walk away from Mack's still form, and listen to her tearily tell the guards and the Pastor when they came back, that she found Mack like this, gun in hand.

Then they left the spot, Santana giving one last lingering look, still in shock, at the puddle of blood that was in the grass.

* * *

Rachel paused midsentence in what she was saying to Blaine, and listened. One of the families had brought a very large, apparently antique cowbell with them, and it had immediately been set up to be used for when everyone needed to gather together quickly.

Blaine scooped up Dahlia, and Rachel started folding the blanket.

They had both had some free time, and had decided to spend it together with Dahlia, getting some fresh, if not cold, air. Rachel couldn't bring herself to speak about their friend's plans to leave in a few week's time (nor Mack's plan to leave with Beth and Sarah and hopefully Quinn, as she assumed the less people who knew about that, the better), deciding Kurt would be irked with her for mentioning anything to Blaine before he could. Blaine of course had heard about Quinn's exile, and had immediately asked if she was okay, and was surprised about her non-reaction about Shelby until Rachel had explained.

So she spoke instead on her worry about Finn, Pastor Zadock's refusal to marry them unless she converted (Blaine had cracked a joke about Pastor Zadock marrying him and Kurt over her and Finn, making her laugh, as clearly that was something Pastor would never, ever do. It was darker humor then she usually preferred, but they both had needed a laugh,) Dahlia, and the weather. It looked as though, finally after a week of cloudy skies, light drizzle and heavy fog, they were going to get some actual rain. Which was, she thought as they started walking silently, excellent news for the winter garden. She was looking forward to fresh squash.

Santana and Mack's plans to leave were ridiculous and based on nothing more than teenage hormones and illogical hysteria. She had an appointment to speak to Pastor Zadock before dinner (trading her pudding cup for the next two weeks to get it. She didn't mind, as she gave it to Finn usually. He would mind, but she'd convince him of the importance. She was still a little upset at him, well, and at herself for her lack of judgement and jealousy, so had planned to give them to Sarah anyway.)

She was quite disappointed that Quinn spilled her secrets to her sister so quickly, especially given that Rachel was very sure the pair did not have a close relationship. Then again, the bond between siblings was something of a mystery to Rachel, even if she felt that perhaps herself and Blaine were growing close.

Rachel had outlined a lecture to give to Quinn in a few days after the mess was behind them.

She had every confidence that her meeting with Pastor Zadock would go well, once he learned the facts.

They arrived at deck in the back of the house, where most of the population, minus a majority of children and a few child minders, were gathered.

Rachel gasped, as she spied a stone faced Ira, Quinn's brother in law, holding onto a limp Mack. Next to her, Blaine shifted closer, clearly having seen Mack, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her near him and Dahlia.

Nervous, Rachel looked around the crowd, finally seeing Santana, Brittany, Tina, Sam, and Kurt clustered together. The crowd was by now too thick to get to them, so she simply pointed them out to Blaine, who waved to get their attention.

All her worry about Finn, still out on the supply run, flew away as the bell was rung again, catching the crowd's attention and silence.

Santana looked fiercely at Frannie, glaring with a depth of hatred Rachel had no idea Santana was capable of. Rachel assumed Santana didn't care enough about most people to actively hate anyone that much.

"It is my regretful duty to inform you that this young lady had been planning on leaving, on taking one of our children with her. When caught, she..." The Head of Sundry said, a man by the name of Fredric Fritz, who looked like everyone's favorite uncle, trailed off Rachel's limited interactions with him had led her to believe that was very much his personality. The words he was speaking didn't mesh with him, at all. But his performance for the benefit of the crowd, she thought, was well. She wondered if he had any acting experience.

"She also stole guns from the group, although we have not found where she has hidden them," he continued stumbling a bit on his words.

The crowd roared, clearly more upset about that. Rachel's ears burnt at they yelled, calling Mack names, saying she was a thief, a whore. One particularly loud fellow yelled that the Mack was going to sacrifice the child she had been trying to steal to Satan.

Frannie, radiant in a white dress, and a white wool coat, her small stomach bump prominently focused, stepped forward. In a loud, clear voice, she called,

"This is the first instance of someone attempting to steal from the group and leave us since we've arrived here, at our safe haven. With the previous attempts, they were punished with exile with three days supplies. Once she was caught, she decided to take matters into her own hands, and instead of facing her punishment, took her own life." Frannie barely had the words out, and Rachel was still registering them when Ira let Mack fall limply from his arms. Frannie had a look on her face that, underneath the superficial sadness, was a look Rachel would know in an instant. It was a look Rachel had, sadly, seen many times from Quinn. A look of superiority, and smugness. Usually Rachel saw it right before she got slushied.

Rachel gasped as she realized that Mack was dead.

Rachel screamed.

If Blaine hadn't been holding onto her, she would have fallen to the ground. Through her tear blurred eyes, she looked at the rest of her friends.

Brittany and Sam held a cursing Santana, tears streaming down her already tearstained face, back. Kurt had his hand over his mouth, in shock as tears freely fell down his face. Tina was sobbing, her face in her hands.

After a few minutes, the cowbell rung again. Rachel had stopped screaming, and was sobbing into Blaine's shoulder.

Frannie's voice rose out through the shocked crowd, "Watch yourself, watch those around you. No one should steal from the group, without the group? We will all die. And choosing to take her own life, like this, this poor foolish girl has stolen a person from us, a person we could have used to put crops in the ground, or to help watch the children, or make our meals." Frannie's voice went icier as she keep speaking, and she gazed sternly at the crowd when she was done.

Rachel caught a glimpse of Mack's body on the deck, and Pastor Zadock having a quite argument with the other Heads as Blaine led her away.

121222222222222222222

Brittany rubbed soothing circles into Santana's back. Santana lay on her stomach, and tried to control her anger. Going off half cocked, being a bitch, and trying to escape in Quinn's SUV would just make her end up like the Mack.

Dead.

Santana mentally cursed in Spanish. Mack was dead. Murdered by that cunt, who then stood up in front of all them and displayed Mack's body, and lied.

Ay dios mio.

"What are going to do, Britt?" She whispered, mindful of the sleeping kids in the bottom bunk. Sarah had been crying off and on all night, Tiffany wasn't much better, and she'd finally dropped off to sleep an hour ago when Santana and Brittany had gone to bed.

Beth was with Frannie, and Santana had had to grit her teeth and not say anything when Frannie had collected her earlier, especially with the look she'd given Sarah. God help her, she was scared of Frannie in a way she'd never been scared of anyone.

"We know where they're going to drop Quinn off, so we'll meet her there. Duh, " Brittany said, giving Santana a soft smile Santana could barely see in the dim moonlight.

Santana snorted quietly, "That worked so well for Mack, didn't it?"

Brittany frowned, "We'll have to be sneaky. _Really_ sneaky. And see if we can slip Quinn a note, so she'll stay in Harkerville, in some place safe while we get prepared. We can't just like, get in a car and leave."

"What are we going to do though Britts? We'll be watched. And one of the dorky guys in the guard asked if he could start courting me, I'm surprised you haven't been asked yet," Santana hissed, agitated. She'd been scared of Frannie, upset about Quinn, and pissed about Mack so she'd told him she needed a few weeks before they started courting. He'd been nice and bland and boring and _not Brittany_, and she'd kill herself if she actually had to end up _courting_ with him just because she was pee herself scared she'd be the next person Frannie got away with killing.

"Don't be silly San, any babies I have you'll be the daddy of," Brittany sat up, and looked thoughtful, "Sam hid the guns he stole for Mack, so we have those."

"What good are guns going to do? "

Brittany continued like Santana hadn't even said anything, "We know Sam will come with us. Kurt and Blaine will come too, Kurt's already told me that some people give him and Blaine….looks, and it scares him. It kinda scares me too Santana, even before they decided to kill Mack. Well, Frannie decided then lied about. I don't like her."

Santana looked at Brittany, watching the other girl think out loud. She marveled that someone so amazing like Brittany would love her. It made her ache and worry.

"San, are you listening?" Brittany whispered with a grin, like she knew the direction Santana's thoughts were drifting, "I was saying, we'll put Rachel and Finn in the maybe category. Tina too."

"So what, we'll somehow pile everyone who's coming into a car, and go meet Quinn? What are we going to do after that. How are we going to eat. Britt, I don't think…"

"Oh, we're going to take four vehicles. Quinn's, Puck's Truck, Mack's Van, and Kurt's. Maybe another one too. And can find stuff on the road. But we're also going to get Mr. Oliver's heirloom seeds, and some chickens, maybe Mrs. Roland's chickens, so we can grow good crops, and have eggs and meat. But we'll have to wait on the meat since we'll need to let the chickens be baby chickens then adult chickens making more baby chickens first," Brittany paused, then added, "Lord Tubbington will hunt for us." Santana figured Brittany had added that for her benefit.

"Britt, I don't know who those people are. And how do you think we're going to get all those cars, food, supplies, seeds and chickens? I.." Santana didn't know what to say, and could feel the tears start to pool in her eyes.

Brittany gave Santana a feral grin, and for a brief second, to Santana she looked like a vengeful goddess, bathing in moonlight. "They aren't important, just their stuff, San. We're going to take it, and whatever else we can. "

Santana sat up, mindful of Tiffany, and gave Brittany kiss. They laid back together, just holding hands, before Santana finally said, "How are we going to do all that Brittany?"

"First we'll get a note to Quinn before they take her away tomorrow. Then we'll talk to Sam."

"And after that?" Santana said, her voice even softer then the low whisper the pair had been speaking in.

"We take our time, and plan. Quinn will get our note, and she'll wait for us. They'll give her enough food for a few weeks, so she just has to stay put in one spot and wait. We'll make sure she brings some books maybe so she won't get lonely. Do you think I should send Lord Tubbington with her?"

When Santana couldn't bring herself to answer, Brittany softly added, "She'll be fine as long as she knows we still love her, and we're coming to her. Quinn's strong."

"So was Mack."

Brittany traced a the single tear that fell from Santana's eye, "She got caught. We won't. We aren't going to die here."

"I hope you're right Brittany…"

"I am," Brittany said adamantly, and snuggled even closer to Santana.

If Santana had ever felt so strongly, what with the freaking zombies and all, that there wasn't a god -or if there was, he was a super dick and there wasn't a reason to bother him, she might have prayed right then that if they got caught, that at least Brittany could escape.

* * *

_She stared at the tall oak tree, large even as far away as she was, the leaves waving slightly in the cool spring breeze. She frowned. She thought it was almost winter, but she must have been confused._

_She turned around, looking at the field they were in. It seemed to go on and on forever._

_Shrugging, she walked towards the tree. Maybe if she climbed it, she'd be able to see when the field ended, and she could go…She stopped, and cocked her head to the side. Go where? She had nowhere to go._

_And why would she want to leave the field anyway? The weather was nice, there was a steam, and she didn't have school, not that school had mattered lately anyway._

_Something nagged at the back of her mind, something important she was forgetting._

_She continued her trek to the tree, finally noticing there was blurry words carved into the trunk. She must not be wearing her contacts or glasses for some reason, if she couldn't read the blurry words until she got closer._

_She heard a sound behind her. Whirling around, she looked and looked and looked and looked, her heart racing, but she didn't see anything but the grass in the field waving in the breeze, the occasional wild flower peaking at her._

_Why had that noise scared her so much?_

_Deciding it must have been a gopher or something, she turned back to the tree, and found herself almost nose to trunk._

_She stepped back from the trunk, frowning. She must have misjudged the distance to the tree. By a lot._

_The tree towered over her._

_Try as she might, she couldn't read the words carved into the tree. She knew how to read, she was sure. But for some reason, she couldn't make out these words. She rubbed a finger along the top word, only three letters, standing on her tiptoes to do so._

_A strong gust of wind blew past her, whirling her hair around her._

_It was really long, almost down to her hips, she realized. When had her hair gotten so long? The last time she could remember, it had barely been past her chin._

_Frowning, she caught it up, and braided it. She looked at it, marveling at the bright dyed blonde at the bottom fading into her natural dark blonde color. For some reason, the contrast fascinated her._

_She heard another noise again. Dropping the braid, she turned her head quickly enough the whip of her hair swished through the air with a crack, hitting her in the face._

_It stung, hard, and brought tears to her eyes. The braid came undone, sending the hair around her in a tangle._

_It took her several moments, face stinging, to gather her hair and hold it so it'd stop flying around. She wished for a pair of scissors or a knife, or a hair tie._

_Frowning, the noise forgotten, she ended up braiding it again, then stuffing it down the back of the dress she was wearing._

_It was lacy, and white, and she felt like a princess wearing it, she realized. Laughing gently, her hair trouble forgotten, she spun around and around and around and around and around and around, until dizzy and still laughing, she flung herself under the tree._

_Once she stopped laughing, she simply laid there, enjoying the sun, looking at the clouds through the tree's branches and leaves._

_Yawning, the niggling sensation that she was forgetting something. Something important, came back to her._

_She stood up, marveling at how the dress was still a pristine white even though she had just been laying in grass. Smoothing the dress down, she turned back to the tree, determined to read what it said._

_She stared at the blurry letters again, concentrating as frustration welled up in her. She stood up on her tiptoes again, determined to feel the top letters again, when that noise came again, causing her to jump._

_She turned around, annoyed. Seeing nothing again, she turned back to the tree. She poked her front teeth with her tongue, surprised to find them wiggling. She poked them a little harder with her tongue, then with her pinky, not quite believing her teeth were loose. Not just the front ones, she realized, but all of them._

_Tears welled in her eyes. She needed to get to a dentist. She didn't know where her dental insurance paperwork was, though. Maybe she could go, and they'd accept the paper work after they fixed her teeth. And she was hungry, she realized. How was she going to eat without teeth?_

_She tried to control her urge to sob. She could handle this._

_Sniffling, she pushed up on her front teeth with her thumb, hoping that just pushing them back into her gums would work._

_Tentatively, she brought her thumb away. They seemed like they were back in. Happy she had fixed her only problem, she turned back to the tree. She'd figure out what it said, she had fixed her teeth, she could do this._

_She grinned, baring her teeth, at the word's carved into the tree, just to show them they would be read._

_One by one, her teeth crumbled and fell out of her mouth._

_Horrified, she stared at the remains of her teeth on the ground._

_The noise came again from behind her, and she ignored it. She had more important things to think about. Like how she was going to go to school with no teeth._

_Tears streaming down her face, she looked back at the tree._

_It took her a few seconds, but she realized she could read the top words._

_**R.I.P.**_

_A sob came out of her as she read the names under the three letters._

_They were dead._

_Santana, Brittany, the Mack…and more. A lot more._

_Beth, Sarah, Tiffany, Sam_

_Rachel._

_How? When? She struggled to remember, but she couldn't._

_The noise came again. Clinching a fist, her other hand covering her toothless mouth,, she turned around with a whirl of her skirt._

_They stood unsteadily across the field. Hundreds of them, staring at her._

_She recognized some of them._

_Her parents bookended a stunning Frannie, who was dressed in a delicate pink gown, wearing her Prom Queen tiara, all three were glaring at Quinn with pure feral hatred._

_Santana and the Mack stood closest to her, both grinning with a mean savageness that sent fear down her heart. On Santana's other side, Brittany held Tiffany, and looked at Quinn with disgust._

_Finn and Rachel stood next to Brittany, holding hands. A heavily pregnant Rachel clutched Dahlia to her, staring at Quinn with sorrow, Sarah standing next to her._

_She realized her teeth had grown back. Relief hit her, even as they started advancing towards her._

_Fear caused Quinn to back up until she hit the tree trunk._

_They surrounded her. She tried to speak, to plea to them, but all that came out was moans._

_She looked down at her dress, distressed to see that it was actually dirty, torn, and stained. How hadn't she noticed before?_

_She moaned again, stumbling towards Rachel._

_A blurry figured moved, and she realized it was Frannie. Frannie shoved her way forward through the crowd, her dress glittering. She stood next to Santana and Mack, taking off her tiara. She brought it down on Quinn's head, making Quinn fall to the ground._

_She didn't feel any pain, and stunned she brought her hand to her head. She felt something gooey pulse._

_Confused, she stared at the trio, and stood up unsteadily._

_The Mack laughed at Frannie, then said, "Gee Prom Queen, you think that's going to take care of this thing?"_

_Santana snorted, "Mack's right. You gotta hit harder than that, with a real weapon," Santana raised her baseball bat, then frowned, putting it down by her side. She turned to Mack, "You think there's any more of them around? This would be a good place to rest."._

_Quinn stepped forward, anxious to be next to Santana, warily watching as Frannie and her parents faded away into the background, blurring in with the people she didn't recognize. Mack shoved her back with a crowbar, and Quinn felt the tree against her back. She snarled at Mack. Why didn't Mack understand she just wanted to be with her friends?_

_"Dunno. Don't think so. We'll have to check, set up a watch, but I think we can camp here," Mack said, looking at Quinn, "Hey, this one look familiar to you?"_

_Santana rolled her eyes, "Much like you white people, they all look the same to me."_

_From besides Finn, quietly Rachel said, "She looks like Quinn."_

_Quinn turned to Rachel, desperate to say she was Quinn, but all that would come out was moans._

_Quinn felt starved by now. She started forward, her eyes not leaving Rachel or the baby in her arms._

_"She looks nothing like Quinn, Berry. And don't you dare mentions her name again!" Santana growled._

_"Don't be such a bitch Santana," Finn said, tiredly, as if he had said that to Santana many times by now._

_"Shut up Finn. When I want your opinion I'll beat it out of you, " Santana spat out, but Quinn could hear the tremble of sadness in her voice._

_"She's right San," Brittany's clear voice came out timidly, "And she's making me sad. She's making you sad too Santana, that's why you're being so mean."_

_With a betrayed look on her face, Santana frowned at Brittany._

_"Kinda makin' me sad too," Mack said._

_Quinn stumbled forward, ignoring them. They ignored her, as if she didn't even matter, until she reached out, and grabbed Sarah. The girl screamed, as Quinn pulled the girl's arm to her newly grown teeth. She was _so _hungry._

Quinn woke up with a start, her heart beating wildly. It took her a second to realize that it had just been a dream, her teeth were hers, and she wasn't a zombie. Shivering, curled up as best she could, the dress and socks she still wore doing little to block out the cold and dampness in the cellar. They had taken her boots and sweater when they had put her down here.

She did her best not to lean against the thin wall of the tent she was locked in, a small pad lock keeping the zippers from freeing her.

If she had anything sharp….well, then she'd still be stuck in here in the dark.

She had no idea how long she'd been here…maybe a day? They had put a bucket in here with her, along with a few bottles of water, and once a scowling woman had brought her some watery soup. She felt like a prisoner back in the days of old, and her growling stomach reminded her that soup had been a while ago.

She heard quiet murmuring, and saw the light was turned on. She sat up. The noise of the lock on the zipper being unlocked cued her in that either she was being fed again, or they were letting her out of here.

Embarrassment at the sour smell from the bucket crept through her as Ira's disapproving face looked at her through the now open tent flap. Quinn found herself blinking rapidly, her eyes not used to the bright light after so long in the dark.

The other two guards with Ira looked at her stone faced as Ira stepped backwards and motioned out the tent.

"You've got 30 minutes, then you're gone," Ira said coolly as she stood up and out of the small tent, her eyes tearing up a little at even brighter light.

She licked her dry lips, and stretched. She hadn't been able to stand up inside the tent. She probably could have stretched out, but uncurling up would have made her colder.

Ira stared at her for a moment, then muttered a few words to the guards Quinn couldn't hear, and stalked up the cellar stairs, Quinn following him, and the pair of guards behind her.

She went up to the room she shared with Santana and Brittany tepidly, unsure of what she would find.

No one was up there. Frowning at her sleeping bag, sitting on the floor next to her empty duffle bag, in the spot where Beth's play pen had sat, already bundled up with a bungee cord ready to tie to her backpack, she realized that the whole house had been strangely empty give how early it must have been.

Where had all of Beth's things gone?

"You've got 27 minutes," One of the guards pointed out, a tall man who looked like he should be an accountant, off in an office crunching numbers instead of looking at Quinn like she didn't matter.

"Can I use the bathroom?" She asked tentatively, her throat dry.

"Don't care what you do, you've got 26 minutes to do it in," The other guard, who looked like he should be a bouncer somewhere, said, frowning at Quinn. He looked at Quinn sadly, then turned away.

Swallowing thickly, she opened the dresser and pulled out a change of clothes. Her eyes were dry, and she realized she had been wearing her contacts for probably over twenty four hours now. So she gathered up the stuff she'd need to take care of them, her glasses, and her toothbrush.

She left the room, the guards trailing behind her, and went into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, she was clean, warmer, and wearing her glasses. Thank goodness Coach Sue had forced them into learning to take seven minute showers.

She returned to the room, and piled her dirty clothes in the hamper, relieved to see the sweater was in there, and that her boots were sitting by the door.

She emptied the contents of her drawers into her duffle bag, her mind blank of anything but her task. She didn't want to think about her friends, her daughter, or her _sister._

She pulled out her backpack, sitting in the closet, largely untouched since they had arrived. She peeked inside, everything she had packed in there before was still in there except the things that had been ate, drank, or used for some other purpose (like the tarps) on their trek to the cabin.

She still had a few protein bars at the bottom of the bag, she was pleased to notice.

Mentally shrugging, she mechanically went through the room, gathering things. She tossed her toiletries, sketching supplies, and charged iPod (even if she had no idea where'd she'd charge it again, she could still listen to it. She'd just have to be really careful not to fall asleep listening to it, or anything else that would waste battery life), and charged phone (even if she had no idea who to call even if there was cell service anywhere) and what clothes wouldn't fit into her stuffed duffle bag.

She pulled on her boots, a hoodie, and her leather coat, and stood up, slinging the strap of her canteen around her.

"Hey, here" the guard that looked like a bouncer said, and handed her a tote bag. At her confused look, he added, "That's your food."

"Oh, thanks," she said, her voice raspy. She pulled out most of the clothes she had stuffed in her backpack, and shoved it in there, tote and all. She folded the clothes that wouldn't fit, setting them on the bottom bunk. Someone would use them.

"4 minutes," the accountant said.

Quinn nodded, and went to tie her sleeping bag to her backpack. She frowned as she noticed what looked like Santana's grandmother's shawl peeking out from inside the rolled up bag.

They hadn't forgotten her after all, she thought, allowing herself a small smile. Despite her efforts not to think about her friends, a small part wondered if they would leave her a note or something to remember them by.

"Can…will I get to say goodbye to anyone?" She asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

"Nope," Accountant said bluntly.

"Are you ready?" Bouncer asked, not exactly nicely, but definitely warmer than his partner.

"I..I guess so."

They led her downstairs, barely letting her fill up her canteen in the kitchen sink as they passed.

Before Quinn knew it, she was in the back of a rather nice traveling van, Accountant staring at her.

Bouncer was sitting in the passenger seat. The driver was a man who, if he was 30 years older, would make a great mall Santa.

Well, she amended, if he was 30 years older and they still _had_ mall Santa's.

A vision of a mall Santa attempting to let little zombie kids sit on his lap without getting bit came to her, and before she knew it she was giggling. The giggling turned to near hysterical laughing as they drove down the road, passing the driveway where just over a month ago Quinn and her friends had went down and buried their dead.

* * *

The ride to Harkerville seemed to take forever. The whole ride, Accountant stared at her, creeping her out a little. No one asked her what was funny when Quinn had finally gotten a hold of herself. No one spoke to her at all, and if it wasn't for Accountant's staring, she would have wondered if she'd turned invisible or something.

Bouncer and Santa made small talk in the front seats. From listening to them, Quinn learned the supply run hadn't managed to get to town yesterday (and that she had been right, she'd been in the tent in the cellar over a day), but they had gotten things needed from nearby houses, so it wasn't a total loss.

Despite how long it felt like they had been driving, Quinn was still pretty sure they haven't driven long enough to get to Harkerville when they finally stopped.

The black clouds in the sky had been floating above them while they drove, finally starting to rain a few miles back. The wind was picking up, too.

"This it?" Accountant asked.

"You are way too happy about this, " Bouncer said, shaking his head.

"We gotta do what we have to, to protect everyone Eli. Remember what happened with the Frederic's?" Account said, glaring at Bouncer.

"Yeah, I do remember. Of course I remember, but-"

"Let's let her out, and get this over with," Santa piped up, "I wanna get back to the wife before it really starts raining. Last thing we need is to be stuck out here."

"I'm not cut out for this, " Quinn heard Bouncer sigh.

Sharply, Accountant replied, "Not cut out for survival?"

Then there was nothing but angry muttering Quinn couldn't make out as she pulled on her backpack, and wished her sleeping bag didn't make it so bulky. She picked up her duffle bag, and when Santa opened the side door on the van, she hopped out, setting it on the floor in the van next to the door.

They were on the road in between Harkerville and the cabin. There were a few scattered houses here and there, but for every house there was half a dozen zombies scattered around the road, along with an abandoned or crashed car.

Quinn looked around, noticing that they had already caught the attention of a few zombies who were stumbling towards them.

"This isn't Harkerville?" Quinn asked, a sinking feeling rising through her.

"Nope. We're about 30 miles out, " Santa replied.

"But…" her protests died on her lips. She was lucky they were taking her this far, she realized dully. She reached down to pick up her duffle bag.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the shot was fired. Dropping her duffle bag on the ground, she turned around.

Accountant cursed.

"You missed! How the hell did you miss!" Santa bellowed at him.

"I dunno man, the rain. Whatever, won't miss again," Accountant shrugged, and pulled the gun back at Quinn.

She stared at him dully in horror. They were going to kill her.

They were going to kill her.

They were going to _kill_ her.

Quinn took off running towards the side of the road, and the woods as another two shots went off. She felt a white hot burning on the side of her face, and that made her move faster.

Branches whipped her face as she ran, not even attempting to find a trail.

She was sure it wasn't rain, but blood going down her face as she ran. She wondered if it was leaving a blood trail for them to follow her. And she was sure they were following her. Well, them or some of the zombies.

She ran, her legs pumping. Wherever Coach Sue was, Quinn thanked her as she ran for the harsh training she had put the Cheerios through. So harsh that even now, months after quitting, Quinn could still out run most people.

Inspired by the thought of Coach Sue taunting her, Quinn forced herself to go faster.

Finally, she burst out of a bush, scratching herself even more.

Then she stepped in a hole, tripped, and fell down the embankment she had been running along.

She rolled through the mud and underbrush for several seconds, then stopped. She groaned, dizzy for a second. A throb from her ankle let her know it didn't appreciate stepping in holes. The rest of her body felt like a giant bruise.

She let out another groan as she heard noises coming towards her.

Maybe she hadn't been much faster than them.

She sat up carefully. And looked around. Blinking at the blurry figures coming towards her, she realized she had lost her glasses. She looked around her, but didn't find them. They must have fell off somewhere while she was rolling.

She used a tree to pull herself up, letting out an involuntary groan as she did so. She untangled the canteen and backpack straps, the strap of the canteen wrapped dangerously around her neck, glad she hadn't lost those as well. She had her spare pairs of glasses, and her contacts in her backpack at least.

A shot whizzed past her, reminding her that she needed to move. She consoled herself that, unless they wanted to come down like she had, it'd take them a few minutes to find her.

She put a little weight on the protesting ankle, and winced at the sharp pain that went through it.

They were going to kill her.

Tears came to her eyes.

Wasn't exile from the safe area, from her friends, from her daughter, _enough_?

She tried to wipe the mud and blood and rain off her face, and realized it wasn't just her face; all of her was absolutely soaked with both mud and rain. Her leather jacket had protected some of her, but not nearly enough.

Realizing the blurry figures were getting closer, she adjusted the backpack straps a little, grit her teeth, and took off running again.

Every step on her injured ankle sent a stab of pain through Quinn. Adrenalin, and Coach Sue's taunting face were the only things that let Quinn keep running.

Finally, one of the low hanging branches hit the white hot pain caused by the second or third bullet on her face, and she let out a sob. She couldn't take it anymore. Panting, she looked around the blurry forms of the trees, finally deciding on a thick pine tree. She climbed up it, higher then she normally would have dared.

She was glad, even if she was soaked, that it was a dark cloudy day. She could do without the wind, but the clouds should help make it harder for them to see her through the thick pine needle covered branches.

She wrapped her legs around the tree branch she was perched on, and shrugged off her backpack, and then her jacket. Shivering, she propped the backpack up against a limb, hanging it as best she could. Hopefully that'd keep it from falling down. She used her jacket to cover up the visible pink parks of her backpack.

She pressed herself against the tree branch, not daring to breath loudly.

Finally, several minutes later, she heard voices. She tensed up, and held her breath.

"Think a zombie got her?" Bouncer's voice asked.

"Dunno. Hopefully, save us a bullet," Accountant replied.

"If you had waited just thirty seconds more, all it would have taken was _a_ bullet," Santa pointed out.

"It's raining, I wanted to get back. Being out here freaks me out. And I wanna see if that tall blonde that was friends with the girl wanted to court. Remember the President's speech? We gotta do our part to repopulate the world yak know."

A snort, followed by, "Good luck with that. Mary was telling me she and that brown girl were…well...you know."

Quinn couldn't make out what they were saying about Santana and Brittany, but judging by the laughter it wasn't anything nice.

The voices got louder, and Quinn realized they were under the tree she was in. She put a hand over her mouth, terrified she'd make a noise and alert them to her presence.

They chattered derogatorily for a few more minutes about Santana and Brittany, then eventually, to Quinn's concern, Kurt and Blaine. Just a trio of buddies out for a hunt, Quinn thought, disgust going through her and melding with the fear and shock.

Finally, Bouncer said, "She's not going to get far, that was quite a tumble she took. She doesn't have a weapon. She's just a teenager. Let's _go._"

"She's dangerous. We can't have people kicked out of the group knowing where we are? Remember the Frederic's. We lost a dozen people because they came back, and-"

"She's just an injured, teenage girl. I know you lost your brother, but-"

The trio continued speaking in low tones. Finally, to Quinn's relief, they left.

She uncovered her mouth, and took several deep gasping breaths that turned into sobs.

They had wanted to kill her.

Rain started pelting her, and the wind picked up. Shivering, Quinn sobbed.

* * *

She ended up spending the rest of the night in that tree, petrified that the guard trio were lurking around, waiting for her to come back. She had dozed off and on, but didn't really sleep.

In the morning, sky still cloudy but not raining yet thankfully, it took her an unsteady fifteen minutes to climb down from the tree with her backpack. Her body protested each move, and she had yelped when she had hopped down from the lowest branch onto the ground. Her ankle hurt, badly. She hoped it wasn't broken.

She chewed on a couple of dry protein bars once she was down, then peed carefully, and dry brushed her teeth, then drank deeply from her canteen.

Not really ready, but knowing she couldn't just stay here in the woods, she shrugged on her jacket and backpack, her body stiff and sore, and found a large tree branch that would work as a crutch. And a weapon, maybe, if she could fight through the pain long enough to put weight on her ankle to use it to kill a zombie.

Limping along, Quinn made her way back to the road, even without glasses, she could see the path she had blundered through the brush.

Eventually, she came up to the embankment.

She frowned.

What if they were waiting for her up there? What if they had camped out all night, just so she'd think she was safe?

Shaking her head, she decided to just walk along the road, down here. Tomorrow, maybe she'd risk the road.

She crept along, limping and shivering and absolutely miserable for hours, stopping only to pee again, or eat exactly two more protein bars, or gulp some water.

It was dusk when she finally allowed herself to stop for the night, the rain having picked back up.

She wished she still had a tarp in her backpack. Or hell, a tent, she thought ruely.

Her sleeping bag was supposed to be waterproof. She picked another tall tree, and scaled it much more slowly then she had the first one, everything protesting.

Using some duct-tape in her bag, she taped her muddy sleeping bag up into a crude shelter. Admittedly, she would much prefer actually sleeping in it…but she wasn't risking a house for the same reason she wasn't risking the road, and sleeping on the ground was asking to be dinner.

The bundle she had taken out of the sleeping bag was indeed Santana's shawl, wrapped around something. She had set it with her backpack while she worked out how to make the best use of her sleeping bag. It took her half an hour to climb down to retrieve both, and climb back up, settling in so she wouldn't fall. She could even lay down on the branch, she had used enough duct tape on her sleeping bag's sides if she felt confident in the "walls".

She was out of the rain and wind, and wouldn't be dinner, and that's what mattered.

She took off her jacket, wincing. Her entire body seriously felt like a bruise. She bundled the wet leather up in a makeshift pillow, then turned to the bundled shawl, flipping on her flashlight.

She was still wet and muddy and probably bloody too, so, as much as she longed for the warmth the knitted material would bring, she resolved not to use it. She owed Santana that much.

Wrapped in the shawl was six fluffy biscuits with jam, six cans of tuna, some tea packets and honey packs and a note written in Brittany's lovely scrawl on the stationary Rachel hoarded jealously.

The note said that not only did they still love her, but they were going to meet her at Harkervillle's water tower, and suggested she hide out in one of the buildings by it. They'd have to be really sneaky about it, so it'll be at least a week or two. If they didn't get there in a month, she can assume they aren't coming.

She was touched, and tears blinded her. When she finally got a hold of herself, she finished reading.

It said they'd get Beth (Quinn wondered, again, where her daughter _was_) and take whoever wanted to come with them. Brittany finished up by saying she knew Quinn was given enough food for two weeks, but the biscuits were in case they didn't give her breakfast, Lord Tubbington had been hoarding tuna and tea so she made him share some with Quinn.

Santana's neatly printed PS, called Quinn an idiot for nearly a paragraph. In two languages. And she finished up by saying Quinn was only borrowing the shawl, and it had better stay clean.

Quinn sobbed, and let herself cry for a few minutes.

They still loved her, still cared enough about her they were going to leave such a perfect safe haven for her.

She didn't deserve them.

Selfishly, one part of her hoped they made to Harkerville. The other, bigger part of her, hoped their plan to leave failed, so they'd be forced to stay at the cabin. It wasn't safe out here, that's why she had been exiled. She didn't _deserve_ to have her friends with her.

They'd be _safer_ at the cabin. Much safer.

When she got a hold of herself, Quinn pulled the tote out of her backpack, frowning at it. It certainly didn't look like two weeks' worth of food.

Searching through it, she quickly found she had four bottles of water, three cans of mixed veggies, a sandwich baggie of rice, some salt, a pack of chicken flavored bouillon cubes, two cans of soup, and a can of peaches.

Definitely not two weeks' worth of food, she through frowning.

But, then again, they had planned on _killing_ her, she was lucky to get what they had given her.

She had about half of the canteen full of water left, and one more protein bar. If she was careful she could make the food last a week. Hopefully, by then she'd be up able to find more. She resolved to eat the peaches for a celebratory dinner when she made it to Harkerville.

For dinner she had a can of soup cold and half the biscuits Brittany had given her, and one of the bottles of water. She stuffed the empty can and bottle in her backpack. She had been careful not to leave any trash in case the guards were looking for her.

Her shelter was okay enough that she had managed to dry a little, and was now only damp. Granted, she was still muddy, worried about her face and ankle, cut, scratched, sore, bruised and heartsick. But at least she wasn't totally soaked anymore.

Stomach full, Quinn stretched out and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

Quinn limped along, wishing she had another protein bar. She had the last can of soup, and last protein bar for breakfast, and the last of the biscuits for lunch. She was down to a tiny bit of water in her canteen, and one and a half bottles of water. It had taken her way too long to unduct tape her sleeping-bag and roll it up, but she'd woken up as the sun rose, so she figured she hadn't lost that much time.

She figured she should hit the edge of town today. Her mouth watered at the thought of the peaches, and hopefully a cup of hot tea and some rice if she could find something to burn. And a place safe enough she felt it was okay to build a fire.

She shivered. Even with the brisk pace she forced herself to keep, she was still cold. Today, the rain and wind had been relentless and that hadn't helped anything at all. Every inch of her body ached, her face still stung from the bullet skimming it or whatever had happened exactly, and her ankle kept sending up sharp pains every time she used that foot. She couldn't imagine how badly it'd hurt now if she didn't have the branch she was using as a crutch.

She leaned up against a tree, deciding she needed a break.

And then frowned, as she realized she had to pee. Sighing, she figured she may as well do it now. She took off her backpack carefully, setting it down by the tree. Hoping on one foot, using the branch, she made her way to a tree a few feet away from the tree her backpack sat at.

She was leaning on the tree pulling her pants up when she was finished, when she heard the tell tale noise that she wasn't alone.

Leaving them unbuttoned, and using the tree for support, she turned.

Two zombies were shambling up towards her. They're slow, she told herself, her heart starting to beat rapidly, you can handle them. She'd have to let them get close enough to hit, there wasn't any way she'd be able to go to them.

Taking a deep breath, she put all her weight against the tree and her good foot, and raised her crutch, bringing it down on the first zombie's head soundly. It fell with a disguising sound, red-black goo staining the bottom of her crutch.

Taking another deep breath, she let the other one get close enough, ignoring every sense in her body telling her to run. She brought her crutch down on the other zombies head. It fell to the ground, it's head smashed in.

Relieved tears came to Quinn's eyes. She can do this. Maybe, she wondered, she shouldn't keep going once she got to Harkerville. She could leave them a note at the water tower, telling them she'd be okay, she loved them too, and to go back to the cabin where they'd be safe. Even find a bag or something for Santana's shawl so it wouldn't get wet, leave it there.

Beth could go to a family there, she'd have someone who knew what they were doing taking care of her. Beth would be better off without Quinn. They _all_ would be better off without Quinn.

Her mind made up, she dropped her crutch on the ground so she could button her pants with both hands.

A growl startled her satisfied content daydream about her friends practically frolicking around the cabin happy, and safe.

Before she realized what was happening, the second zombie was on her and she was in the mud and pee puddle.

By reflex Quinn used her arms to keep it from biting her, staring at it in shock as her fingers dug into the flesh on its shoulders.

It's brain was mashed. _How was it still alive._

Gasping, she shoved against it with one arm, and desperately reached for her crutch with the other...even straining, it was just out of reach.

She was so tired, she realized. Tired, and cold and she _hurt_. It'd be so easy to just let this thing bite her.

So _easy_.

But, she realized, a little surprised, she didn't really want to die. And she really didn't want to be one of those things.

She was scared and cold and hungry and tired and sore, but she didn't want to die and she wouldn't give up. She'd figure out where she would go, what she would do later, but for now, all she needed was the knowledge that _she didn't want to die._

It empowered her. Practically snarling at the thing trying to bite her, she reached around, finally her hand found a rock. It wasn't much, but it'd have to do.

Adrenalin helped her bring the rock to the things head, spattering dark red goo all over Quinn. She hit it over and over again, feeling her arm that was holding the thing back getting weaker by the second. Finally, the top half of the things head was nothing more than mush surrounding them both.

Frustration welled in Quinn. How was it still alive? Most of its brain was _gone._ Lacking any other options, she starting hitting the bits left over, above its neck, not careful if she hit the head or the upper neck. She hit it. And kept hitting it, until there was no head or neck left.

Finally it stilled.

She shoved it off of her, and sat up, angry tears mixing with the zombie goo that spattered all over her front. She had pee and extra mud on her back. She was still soaked, hungry, sore, and cold. She shivered again, this time from the adrenaline leaving her.

She let out a little sob, and puked up her meager lunch. Probably getting a little bit on herself, but what did it matter anyway.

When she was done bawling, a little ashamed of herself, and a little angry at herself, she pulled her glasses off -they were so goo covered they'd be useless right now, anyway, and squinted at the zombie.

All the zombies she had seen so far had looked like they had a bad sunburn, and a little or a lot bloated looking, with black or dark red fluid leaking out everywhere. This one wasn't bloated, but otherwise it was normal. Well, normal for zombies.

What the_ hell_.

She was glad now, that she was still mud covered. She take her chances with the mud covering her facial…cut? Bullet wound? Whatever. Dirt had to be safer then zombie goo.

She wondered why this zombie had to have its entire head mashed. Or maybe it was the neck being smashed that finally killed it? Either way, it was weird, and definitely not the norm.

She'd worry about it later, she decided.

She swung her good leg to her crutch, pulling it closer. Somehow, she managed to stand up. She pulled her backpack on, wondering how muddy her sleeping bag was on the inside, and stared at the direction she was heading.

She felt so weak, and tired. She'd love nothing more than to curl up and take a nap.

She wouldn't though.

She had to be getting to Harkerville soon.

Wincing, she stepped forwards, shivering again. She started walking again, forcing herself to go faster then she had been going, thinking longingly of the can of peaches followed by some rice and tuna.

She had just fought off two zombies with a stick and a rock, she realized then smiled. Santana and Mack had been arguing about which of them was the bigger badass since the day they met, Quinn couldn't wait to tell them this story and soak up them both telling her _she_ was the biggest badass.

Although she was going to leave out the 'got knocked into a puddle of her own pee' part.


	15. Scar Tissue

What must have been hours later, Quinn felt the last of her strength ebbing. She had used her Swiss army knife to hack open a can of veggies earlier, and had drank a full bottle of water.

It was going to be dark soon. She had nearly decided it was time to look for a tree to hide in, when she realized that the road she had been following was starting to level out into town.

She felt a burst of energy as she realized she must have been on the outskirts of Harkerville.

Forcing herself to go faster, even as she started to feel weaker and weaker, Quinn made her way through the trees, following the road until she found herself on the outskirts of town.

Well, calling it a town was being generous.

The rain and wind beat against her, as she shivered hard.

Even if it was just a shed, she needed to get out of the weather.

She could see the water tower, blurry from where she stood. She'd just shoved her dirty glasses into her backpack, not wanting to deal with them. In the same fenced in area was the water treatment building. Across the street was a trio of buildings that shared walls…a thrift store, and the town's library, and something else she couldn't recall from their drive through the town.

The thrift store, she decided, was her best choice.

The only problem was there were dozens of zombies in-between her and the water tower. Shivering even harder, Quinn didn't think she could limp past them.

Finally, frustration at being so close to somewhere sheltered, she started throwing rocks at the cars she could see.

Ten minutes of throwing later, fatigue going through her, one of the rocks that actually hit a car, setting off a car alarm.

Shocked at her last ditch effort actually working, Quinn stared stupidly for a moment.

The zombies started going towards the car, attracted by the noise and flashing lights. Confidant she'd get to the thrift store safely, Quinn limped around the cars.

It took her nearly an hour to get to the thrift store, and it was almost completely dark by the time she did so.

She stood in front of the red brick building, thinking about how much easier it'd be if the second story on it was an apartment. An apartment with a fireplace, that was fully stocked with enough food for months, she snorted to herself.

Stomach growling, she walked up to the door. Holding her breath, she pushed the door in.

A bell over the door rung as she entered, startling her.

She closed the door behind her, locking it, and stood still, ready to hit anything that came towards her.

Nothing did after a few minutes. Letting herself relax a little, looked around the thrift store. The sign in front said it had antiques, but as far as Quinn could tell the only thing that looked like an antique was a hutch full of delicate looking dishes. Everything else looked like the standard fare you'd find in any thrift store.

Limping, she went to the door that lead, she figured, upstairs. Marked "Employees Only", she hit it soundly with her crutch, then opened it.

Forcing herself to wait for a few minutes again, Quinn hopped her way up the stairs, closing the door and locking it behind her once more.

Some tension left her shoulders once she was on the second floor, which apparently acted as the sorting area, and office. There was a tiny bathroom tucked into a corner.

She could easily see she was the only one up here, and she smiled happily.

Groaning, she went to the desk and pulled off her backpack, setting it down on top. Stiff and sore, she stretched her aching body a bit, standing on one foot not daring to risk putting pressure on her ankle.

Cold fingers making it harder, she unstrapped her sleeping bag and tossed it on the ground.

She dug around in her backpack, until she found her flashlight and empty water bottles. Grabbing her canteen, she hopped to the small bathroom. It didn't take her long to clean up as best she could, wincing at the cut caused by the bullet skimming her face.

She had come very close to dying, closer then she had realized. If that guard had fired a little left, she would be dead right now.

Santana would have never gotten her shawl back, then, she thought with a wiry smile. And wouldn't that piss her off.

But then again, Santana was pretty clearly already pretty pissed off at Quinn, if the note was any indication.

And Quinn didn't blame her, she realized staring at her refection in the mirror, barely able to make out her own face with the flashlight sitting on the sink, and her glasses in her backpack.

Quinn was a little mad at herself.

How could she had been so admit anything to Frannie? _Frannie_ of all people. She had known what Frannie was like, hadn't she? And yet, she just blabbed about killing Shelby, just like that.

Quinn knows what she would have done with such a secret if someone she didn't like very much.

Tears came to her eyes, as she realized that yes, Frannie didn't like her. Maybe she loved her, (they were sisters after all) but like her?

And why would she?

Lucy Fabray had been a bumbling nerd, too fat and too awkward to matter.

And when she had shed Lucy, and became Quinn?

She'd been nothing more than a cheap copy of Frannie. Sure, she'd excelled in a few places -making cheerleader captain in freshman year had certainly helped.

She had modeled herself in every way after Frannie, right down to her nose.

Quinn had remade herself in Frannie's image, thinking that she could just step in and be Frannie 2.0. A new high school, and the only memory of Frannie would be what she carried with her, Lucy a constant shadow following behind.

She'd have the perfect boyfriend, be head cheerleader, be prom queen, then go on to the best college…she'd be amazing.

She'd be perfect.

And she had been amazing. She had outshone Frannie's star in every way, even as Lucy had faded away and all that was left was Quinn. Unhappy, insecure Quinn, still striving for perfection but always, without fail, falling short.

Beth…Beth was the best thing that had happened to her. Beth was the perfection she had always strived for.

And now she'd never see Beth again.

A sob unwillingly came out of her.

Maybe telling her friends to forget about her, and go back to the cabin wasn't the best choice. At the very least, she should stay, and speak to them. Let them choose her, or the cabin.

It wasn't a hard choice, she'd admit. Safety over Quinn? Quinn simply wasn't worth picking.

She thought of Frannie, and how she had disliked Santana so much.

It dawned on her that perhaps, even if the cabin was safe from zombies, there were still people there. People with their prejudges. She frowned, as she thought back to the conversation the guards had been having.

Maybe being at the cabin wasn't the best thing for Santana and Brittany, or Kurt and Blaine.

Her thoughts drifted back to her sister...Frannie had always been hard, mean, and at times cruel. She wouldn't have stuck around the New Directions with any sense of loyalty.

Yes, maybe Quinn Fabray is just a cheap copy of Frannie Fabray.

But Quinn Fabray does have some originality Frannie never had, good and bad. Coach Sue. Glee club. Beth. Santana and Brittany. Mack, Even Rachel.

She's Quinn Fabray.

For the first time in a long time, she felt that maybe, just maybe that meant something good.

She wasn't a mother any more, she wasn't going to be prom queen, or sing at nationals or make out with a forty year old skate boarder.

She was alive, and she was okay, would be just fine after a few days rest. Maybe that's all she needed to be right now.

Quinn let out a laugh as she thought of what, exactly, Mack would have to say about that when Quinn spoke to her.

She drank her fill of water from the facet, filling up the water bottles and canteen, and hungrily ate another can of veggies and that long awaited can of peaches, savoring every bite, then fell asleep, curled up in her sleeping bag in her dirty clothes, not even trying to take off her boots, and slightly uncomfortable at elevating her hurt ankle on her backpack.

* * *

"_Rachel,_ are you _listening_?"

Rachel yawned, and looked at Naomi Straub. Naomi was a few years older than her, and had attached herself to Rachel once they started working the same job duty shifts. Normally the Mack's presence, an aura that seemed to surround Rachel even when not in Mack's actual company, had kept the girl from taking too much of Rachel's attention…not that Rachel had minded it, really, almost enjoying the fact that finally, someone wanted her presence, her friendship, and her company without any drama or baggage, but the past 24 hours had been stressful, and Rachel just didn't have it in her.

"I apologize," She gave Naomi a sad smile, "I am listening, I…did not sleep well last night."

"Right, because of Dahlia?" Naomi gave a wistful sigh that sent irritation down Rachel's spine, "I could watch her if you wanted to go take a nap later?" Naomi offered, giving Rachel a brilliant smile.

"I appreciate your offer Naomi, thank you, but Blaine will be watching Dahlia when our shifts are over," Rachel declined. One of her friends had been killed, murdered, even if that wasn't public knowledge, and Naomi, foolish girl, thought it was because of the baby. As if it didn't occur to her that Rachel would still be _upset_. She consoled herself that Dahlia was perfectly fine with Brittany.

Rachel realized that none of them, those who had been at the cabin originally, had really taken the time to find out what exactly had happened during the time it had taken Frannie's group to arrive here.

Maybe it had been rather bad, whatever it was, that Naomi and the others had thrown themselves into making sure things ran perfectly smooth at the cabin. Or perhaps, Naomi had "drank the Kool-aid," as the Mack would have said. A wave of sadness went through Rachel, as she realized the Mack would have just declared Naomi was a …twit who smiled to much? Well, _something_ like that anyway.

"Oh…okay. You know it's kinda...weird you two share custody of her," Naomi tentatively. Rachel was surprised, not that anyone had those particular feelings about her and Blaine's arrangement, she had heard snips of gossip, but surprised that Naomi had said anything to her about it.

"I think, " Rachel said slowly, trying not to let her irritation show too much, "You should concentrate on washing the dishes, you have missed several spots," she finished, drying the plate she was holding a little too hard.

Naomi hurriedly apologized, then continued exactly where she had left off before (Rachel had, in fact, been listening, her multitasking skills were _excellent_.) Rachel allowed her mind to wander as she nodded and made agreeable noises in the right spots as Naomi chattered.

How on earth were they going to be able to leave, quietly, while taking the vehicles and supplies needed to survive?

Just the amount of food and water it'd take to ensure fourteen, well fifteen she amended, when you count Quinn and assuming Tina wished to go with them. Fifteen people, almost half them children to survive. She'd only feel comfortable with a month, minimum, supply of food, and even that would have her anxious for a base and supply runs. Perhaps she should settle for a few days worth, and hope they managed to find more once they were safely away?

Normally she had mentally rehearsed in her head when forced to watch their usual selections, but goodness, perhaps she had paid more attention to Finn and Puck's movie nights then she had realized.

While Rachel had been on the fence about leaving, any qualms she had had about the area outside the cabin's boundaries…well, those had been tossed away as she had leapt to the "leave this place" side of the fence as practically as the Mack's body had fallen to the ground.

They had _killed_ her. No, _Frannie_ had killed her. Rachel would have normally questioned Santana's account of Mack's death, but from her and Sarah's faces, it had obviously happened as exact as Santana had said.

Rachel had even given a precious piece of her stationary for Brittany to use to write the note to Quinn, to show Quinn…well, she wasn't sure, exactly, what she wanted to show Quinn.

Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to go off in the world with a pack of teenagers and children, but as long as they were careful, and planned well, they would be fine.

They had to be fine.

Worry about Quinn gnawed inside her. If they could...kill Mack, who is to say they would not kill Quinn as well? Well, Frannie wouldn't have killed her own sister, surely. She consoled herself.

Her thoughts drifted to the night before, when Tina and Rachel had went to their room last night.

_Rachel held Dahlia, just staring at the drawer the infant slept in. Normally an act that made her wistful for a proper crib for Dahlia, but at the moment all she could think about was Mack._

_"Rachel," Tina said in a tiny voice, "Don't you have the meeting with Pastor Zadock?"_

_"I think, given the current situation, there is no point in attempting to get Quinn's exile rescinded," Rachel said, blinking back tears. Crying would not help anything right now, and she had certainly cried enough after the meeting had disbursed._

_Tina, apparently feeling the same way, said, "If...one of us had just…wasn't here anymore, you know what'd she say?"_

_"More room in the bed for her?" Rachel suggested, letting herself smile._

_Tina gave a half laugh._

_Both of them knew that in reality, while the Mack likely would have made such a comment, she would have also done something rash to the committee heads. Something rash and no doubt painful. Or attempted to, anyway._

_"I just don't get it, why would she have wanted to leave? I mean, I know Quinn is being exiled, but…I mean, she killed Shelby, and it's dangerous out there…" Tina said, looking down, "I'm not as brave as Mack. Or as stupid, either. I know that's mean to say, but…it's dangerous out there." She finished in a tiny voice again._

_Rachel could see she was going to start sobbing again._

_A little voice in Rachel's head (that sounded suspiciously like the Mack) said that perhaps it was good Tina would likely not come with them, if all the dark haired girl could do was cry. Now was the time for action, not tears._

Eventually, the woman who was in charge of this shift informed them it was over. Rachel, keeping a pleasant smile on her face, said goodbye to Naomi.

She was meeting Finn. She had not had the chance to spend time with him since the supply run group had returned late last night.

A part of her needed to see him herself, to verify that he was back, safe and whole. Another part wanted to make sure that Eve wasn't lurking around him. Rachel certainly did not want to have sex with him right now and worried that she would do something so rash if she saw Eve and him together.

Frowning, she checked herself over to make sure that, despite tending to lunch and cleanup, she looked presentable.

She was wearing Mack's pair of well worn in motorcycle boots, that Mack had once said "Cost as much as a car. Those things are so well made Beth's grandkids will be fighting over 'em."

It had been odd yet thrilling to discover they wore the same small size, and just wearing them gave her some semblance of comfort.

The Mack's belongings were still in their room, even though they had been told this morning to take them to the garage so they could be sorted into the community supply sometime today.

Neither Tina nor Rachel felt right touching Mack's things. As if the Mack would know, and storm into the room asking them what the hell they thought they were doing. Rachel had felt very daring indeed just taking the boots.

But, Rachel knew that if it wasn't done in a timely manner someone else would invade their space, and do it for them.

Rachel had no plans on letting that happen. She was going to take what she liked (making sure to put aside some things for Quinn), make sure Tina did the same, then encourage Santana and Brittany (and perhaps Sarah) to do so as well. Perhaps even find some things for Stacy to make use of.

Hopefully what she would eventually be bringing to be added to the community pile would be barely worth the trip to the garage. Rachel had already decided to trade in her rolling suitcase for Mack's army duffle bag.

Frannie did not get to _kill_ her then just demand her things get used for the communities benefit without even giving them time to mourn.

A small part of Rachel demanded that whatever was not claimed by one of them, Rachel should burn. Mack would have likely enjoyed that act of rebellion, but Rachel just couldn't risk getting into trouble. None of them could.

Deciding that even if her braid was a bit messy, and her face was still a bit flushed from the heat in the kitchen, she was presentable enough, Rachel made her way to where she was meeting Finn, the place having been previously decided.

He wasn't there. She quickly found he wasn't in the cabin at all.

A flash of fear went through her; what if something had happened to him, and she not been informed? She pushed her panic down, reassuring herself that the news that one of the men or boys on the supply run dying or being injured would have spread through the property like wild fire.

She'd go look for him. She pulled on her coat, resigned herself that at least she was wearing sturdy boots, and went outside.

The rain and wind came at her viciously when she stepped outside.

She sent a prayer up to whoever was listening that Quinn was somewhere safe, out of the wind and rain, warm and well fed.

It was a point in their favor that despite exiling Quinn, they had given her two weeks of food and her machete. Perhaps they weren't c_ompletely_ heartless.

She felt a moment of pity for those who were forced to stay outside, whether in a tent or their vehicle.

Pity turned to worry, as she recalled that some of the whisperings from the other women on her duty shift that there were noises being made about the fact that perhaps some of the cabin's bedrooms could be better used by others.

She needed to tell Santana about that, so they could work on their plan. Right now they basically had the second floor to themselves, so there was very little risk of any planning being over heard except by Terri, Emma, or the women and children who were in the attic. Rachel was quite confident that if either woman heard any plans, they would not tell on them, stop them, or ask to go along, so she was not concerned about them.

It would be a quite a different story if they were forced to share the floor with others, or, Rachel thought with a frown, they were forced outside into tents or vehicles.

Rachel saw a handful of people waiting at the gate, and decided that may as well be the first place to look for Finn.

Fighting against the wind, she made her way over there carefully, mindful of the puddles.

Realization, and joy, set in as she saw Finn was in fact at the group. That turned quickly to annoyance as she realized Finn was standing rather close to Eve. _Again._

Finn noticed her as she stood next to him, and he grinned at her, then frowned, "Oh, I missed our meet up time, didn't I? Sorry Rachel, we were done early and I told Eve I'd wait with her. Her older brother is one of the guards that went to…drop off Quinn."

He slung an arm around her, and pulled her under the umbrella they were standing under. Not, Rachel thought annoyed, that it was doing much good considering the wind. In actuality, given the thunder and lightning, they'd be likely be safer without it, and just as wet.

They stood in silence, anger churning through Rachel. She took several deep breaths to control herself.

Finally, the cargo van that had dropped off Quinn earlier (Rachel and her group had been forced to wait in the garage, they were quite serious about not letting Quinn say goodbye. All of Beth's things had been gone when they had been allowed back,) came driving up.

The driver slowed down at the gate, and the side door slide open for them, and Rachel found herself bumping into Eve as they all climbed in.

Grateful to be out of the rain, Rachel looked around. The van was quite nicer then Mack's, she thought.

Her heart fled out of her chest when she saw Quinn's full duffel bag shoved in the corner of the van. Ignoring the chattering that was going around her (even Finn was talking to everyone, she noted,) she zeroed in on Quinn's bag.

Was that _blood?_

Once the van was parked, she pulled away from Finn, and grabbed the strap of Quinn's duffle bag.

She controlled her urge to run straight up to Santana and Brittany, and forced herself to calm down. Thinking clearly, she said to the man who sat in back with them (and who was apparently Eve's brother) that she was going to take the bag where it belonged.

His nod of agreement doing nothing to slow down her racing heart, calling upon all of her skills as an actress, Rachel forced herself to tell Finn she would speak to him later, and leaving him looking confused, she had walked carefully into the cabin.

Once she was out of sight, she took the stairs two at a time, lugging the overly stuffed duffle bag with her.

Rachel knocked on the door to their room twice, and without waiting for an answer went inside.

Santana was sitting on the bottom bunk, screaming into a pillow. Sarah, Tiffany, Stevie and Stacy were curled up together in a corner, Sarah reading a book to the younger kids. Rachel knew it was ridiculous, but it really looked as though Lord Tubbington (who was curled up in between Tiffany and Stacy) was paying attention to the story.

Sam was staring out the window, jaw set. Blaine and Kurt stood next to him, looking somber. To Rachel's surprise, Kurt was holding Dahlia.

Brittany was furiously knitting something, sitting in the only chair in the room, frowning as she concentrated on the needles and yarn.

Rachel closed the door behind her, doing her best not to slam it even though she felt like hitting someone.

She heaved Quinn's duffle bag down onto the floor. It landed with a loud thump, catching everyone's attention.

"What the hell Berry, " Santana snapped, glaring at her, "That's Quinn's Cheerio bag."

"Yes Santana, " Rachel said, taking a deep breath, "I am aware of that. I removed it from the van they delivered her to Harkerville in. Please note the blood spatter on it."

Santana cursed in Spanish for a few moments, and looked at Sam, "That explains it." Rachel must have had a look on her face, because Santana added, "Sam found Quinn's machete in the weapon storage."

"They just left her out there without a weapon," Rachel said, horrified.

Santana sent Rachel another glare, and snarled, "Obviously. Still think it's a good idea to stay here, Berry?"

Rachel gave Santana a glare of her own, "Any hesitations I had about leaving vanished when my _friend_ was _murdered._ "

"Did you talk to Tina?" Sam asked stepping forward to sit next to the bed on the floor.

"Not yet. I will though, soon, today. Before dinner," Santana promised.

Rachel sat down next to Sam, and took Dahlia when Kurt and Blaine came over to sit next to her. She felt a little calmer holding the infant, she realized contently. Her eyes skimmed her stomach, wondering if she was pregnant. She would know for sure in a week, as her cycle was regular as clockwork, even with the stresses of the situations.

"What are we going to do?" Kurt asked, leaning against Blaine. Blaine wrapped an arm around him.

"I've been put on night watch for the next couple of weeks, " Sam offered, "It'll just be me and another guy for our shift. Ira figures with the weather and how far away we are from town there won't be much at the fences to worry about."

Brittany looked up from her knitting, "The full moon's in two days. It'll be super bright outside at night."

"So what are we going to do? Wait two days, then escape using the light of the full moon if it's not cloudy? Sam'll conk his guard partner on the head, and I can magically teleport in and out of the attic to get Beth and her crap too?" Santana snorted, punching the pillow.

Rachel considered. It was certainly better than anything she could think of at the moment, and judging by the others face's they felt the same way.

One thing bothered her though, "How long is your shift Sam? Two hours? That hardly seems like enough time to ensure the vehicles are ready to go, sneak all the supplies out we will need, and get everyone buckled up. If you assume they will immediately find out we have left when it is the next shifts turn…I do not speak for everyone, obviously, but I would like at least an hour before they discover we have fled."

"Not to mention, I don't have teleportation powers," Santana said, "How the hell are we gonna get Beth?"

"I'm like, super quite Santana. I'll get Beth, Lord Tubbington will help." Brittany offered. Santana scowled, clearly not liking that idea.

"There's still the matter of the supplies, and getting everyone and their things into the vehicles. Assuming the weather stays the same, that will just add to the difficultly. " Rachel pointed out with a frown, cuddling Dahlia close.

Santana thought for a moment, then said, "We make a few trips to get supplies, everyone, even Brittany carries what they can. Once that's done, we get the kids in the cars. They'll probably stay asleep, the younger ones anyway. Brittany gets Beth, the rest of us get our stuff. Once they're back at the cars, we bail. No lights, hopefully it'll be raining hard enough to cover up the cars starting."

"Someone's gotta get the chickens, Santana. We'll need them," Brittany said pointedly.

Santana scowled, "Do you have any idea how to take care of chickens? Or transport them? Because I don't Britts…I know you wanted them, but…"

"Uh, I can take care of chickens," Sam said hesitantly, "My grandpa had a farm. One of my chores when I'd visit him in the summer's was taking care of the chickens."

"How are we going to get them to the cars? And transport them?" Kurt asked, looking ill at what Rachel was quite sure was the thought of chickens in the back of his SUV.

"Let me worry about that, I'll figure something out?" Sam said.

"You'll have to immediately get to that, you won't have time to help with supplies…" Santana frowned, thinking again. Finally she said, "We'll have to just concentrate on medicine, ammo, weapons first; then just get enough food and water for a few days."

Rachel opened her mouth to argue, but Santana stopped her, "I know what you're going to say Rachel. I don't like it either, okay? But we've got an hour, tops. Maybe if we load up Frankenteen like a donkey…"

Rachel licked her lips, and said, ignoring the insult to Finn, "I have not actually spoken to Finn about this, yet."

Santana shot her a glare, "Really Rachel?"

Thinking back to how at ease Finn had been lately, Rachel sighed, then said, "I have not had any time with him."

A little voice in the back of her head, once more sounding like Mack, said she was also worried that Finn would immediately tell her leaving was a horrible idea, and blab about it to whoever was listening.

She was not going to admit that to Santana though.

* * *

Tina looked down, quiet for a moment, then said, "It's not safe out there."

"Fuck that, " Santana hissed quietly, to not draw the attention of anyone else in the living room, "It's not safe here. Today it's The Mack being killed in cold blood, tomorrow it's Kurt or Blaine. The day after tomorrow it could be you Tina."

Noticing one of the adult women looking at them, Tina resumed reading her book, and Santana grudgingly sat next to her, holding Brittany's knitting to look busy, and looking, she was absolutely sure, ridiculous. After a few minutes of silence, Tina finally whispered, "I'm scared. I'm not strong like you, Santana. I miss my parents so much. I miss Mike so much it hurts. And ...Mack..."

Santana whispered, "I'm scared too Tina. So scared. But I know that whatever happens, Quinn will have my back. I can't really say the same about anyone here who aren't gleeks, can I? I'm pretty sure if something happened to me right now, Britt would be a child bride by next year."

Santana carefully ignored the fact that Quinn did not have her machete, didn't have any weapon. And the blood spatter on her duffle bag. Sure, there was a chance Quinn was…Santana couldn't even bring herself to think it. But there was also a chance they'd hit Harkerville, and Quinn would be waiting.

"I've…Quinn killed someone Santana. How do I know she's not going to snap and murder me or you?"

Angry, Santana glared at Tina and hissed, "Quinn went all skank during the summer, she was obviously having issues. Shelby coming back into town with her lizard baby didn't help. Then, you know, fucking zombies. She saw her mom eating her dad, for Christ's Sake. She was doing great until they kicked her out. "

"Do…do you think she'll be able to handle it. Like, will she be our leader? Can she handle that? I mean, who else…?"

Santana hadn't really thought about that. She had just kinda…assumed that Quinn would be leader. She knew she didn't have what it'd take to lead them, (Coach Sue had known that, which is why she was made co-captain with Becky. Already the fact that everyone kept looking at her expectantly like she had all the answers was starting to irritate her,) and really the list of people with the balls and brains to do so were pretty short. "I can't tell the future. If I could, I would have stocked up on guns, ammo, and food in a cabin in the woods with Britt. She was captain of the Cheerios, she can handle leading our group. We don't even have to make her, like dictator, even. Sometimes she does stupid shit, but I feel confident in her."

"Enough to trust Brittany's life in her hands?" Santana was still pissed off a Quinn, sure. Probably would be for a while. But she could still easily answer that question.

Santana looked Tina in the eyes, "Yes."

"Then I'm in."

Santana grinned, "Good. Let's go upstairs right now, fill you in."


	16. Bad Moon Rising

The car alarm was still blaring when she woke up.

She had been so exhausted, she hadn't dreamed at all the last few nights.

Yawning, she sat up and stretched. She stared at her still booted feet, and then the rest of her. She realized that while she had probably done an okay job of cleaning up last night, she would benefit from a change of clothes and a new pair of socks. And she had packed in a hurry, but she was fairly sure she had a pair of clean underwear in her backpack.

She grabbed her crutch, and using it and the desk she stood up easier than if she had by herself. She took a tentative step forward on her bad ankle, and winced. It still ached, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday. She could probably mange a few minutes without the crutch if she needed to. The rest of her was still sore, too. In a couple more days, hopefully she'd be 100%.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Quinn went downstairs with the emptied tote bag. She looked around the thrift store, now that it was day light.

It was still storming outside, so there wasn't all that much light coming in through the front windows.

It really did, she thought wirily, look like every thrift store ever despite its claim of "Antiques" on the front.

She found the clothes aisle, and quickly grabbed a pink t-shirt that said "My Family Went to Disney Land and All I Got Was This T-Shirt", a purple sweatshirt, a scarf, some knee high socks, thick tights, a bright pink stocking cap, and since she didn't feel like trying to find pants, an ankle length green skirt.

Once her clothes were folded and stuffed into her tote, she looked around the aisles. In the book section she picked up a few Mary Higgins Clark novels, and from there she found a couple of pots, a bowl, utensils, a cup.

The thrift store had a section of novelty candles she happily scooped into her tote, sparing a smile the jolly Santa candle.

She stocked her arms full with blankets and throw pillows, and carefully made her way upstairs, tossing them in a corner to be dealt with later.

Unable to take it anymore, she stripped naked, wincing when she pulled her boots off, and looked at her bad ankle. It was bruised, but not as swollen as it could have been. She limped to the bathroom. There, she gave herself a full body wash as best she could do with some expired body wash, ice cold tap water, and a thin towel.

She was cut up more then she had realized, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror. Some of the cuts stung from the soap and cold water.

She swallowed back tears looking at the bullet wound on the right side of her face. The bullet had obviously skimmed her, the wound started right in between the top of her ear and the corner of her eye, and angled downward over her cheek, stopping under her bottom lip at the start of her chin.

Thankfully, it didn't look that deep. It didn't go all the way through her cheek in any places or anything. Not that she was a doctor, but it should probably heal fine if she kept it clean and made sure any zombie goop stayed out of it.

Wincing again, she spent extra time cleaning it, rinsing dirt and pebbles out of it. Better dirt, she thought, then zombie gunk.

Once more, she marveled at just how closely she had come to dying. She had been very very lucky. If she had been to the left, or the guards aim had been better, she would be dead.

Feeling a little more human, when she was done she got dressed. She had been right, there was a pair of clean panties in her backpack, but at as a result most of the bag's contents were tossed all over the desk top. She wiped down her sleeping bag, spreading it out so it'd dry. Then she cleaned up her jacket, hoodie, and boots.

The car alarm was still going off.

She limped over to the window, picking up her crutch on her way, and peaked outside. The zombies were still absolutely entranced by the flashing lights and the noise coming from the car.

She bit her lip, thinking. She wasn't at 100% right now…but she needed more food, and as long as that car was going off the zee's would be distracted.

The battery would probably die soon, she rationalized.

She'd search the desk, even tempt fate by seeing what was in the mini-fridge under it, she decided. Then she'd she what was at the café next door.

She limped forward, and bent down under the desk, wincing. Holding her breath, she opened the mini-fridge.

She gave a smile when she saw it was full of cans of root beer. She pulled them out, and put them on top of the desk. The desk drawers gave her some pens, a notebook, and a half full bag of fun sized Hersey bars.

Grinning happily, she ate a couple of the mini candy bars, and drank two of the sodas. She followed that by a bottle of water, then moved onto the last drawer

Nothing interesting but an almost full half pint of whiskey.

Her first instinct was to leave it there. She had the drawer half closed before, rolling her eyes a little at herself, she remembered it could be used to sterilize wounds.

She pulled the bottle out, and went back into the bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror, her fingers brushed the cool lid, and she licked her lips, deciding. She was pretty sure in cowboy movies the patient got a drink of whiskey before they poured it on their injury. Twisting the cap off, she took a sip of it, making a face at the taste.

Staring at the wound on her face in the dim light coming through the small window, she tried not to think about how ugly she was going to look when it healed and scarred up.

Assuming she lived that long.

Scowling at herself in the mirror, she knew she had to stop thinking like that.

She firmly told herself that not only would she live long enough for it to heal into a hideous scar on her face, making her ugly, she would be a wrinkly old woman telling Beth's grandkids what television was.

She snorted. Okay, so maybe she had gone too far into the opposite direction there. But she really had to stop being fatalistic. Like Coach Sue said, fake it until you've molded reality to your whims.

It's not like looks mattered any more, not really. So who cared if she'd have a hideous, ugly scar on her face.

She took another sip of the whiskey, her body's sores and aches dimming to a dull background reminder already from the whiskey, instead of the constant demanding exclamation point every time she moved an inch. She even felt a little warmer, even if she knew she wasn't actually.

Staring at the wound on her face again, she took a deep breath. This was going to hurt, she was pretty sure.

A lot.

She unwrapped her scarf, and put it over her left shoulder, hopefully she wouldn't spill anything on it. But, then again, there were more downstairs.

Taking another deep breath, she leaned over the small sink, cocking her head to the side. She positioned the bottle, then closed her eyes and poured.

It felt like her face was on fire, like lava was under her skin trying to get out. It was almost as bad as giving birth. Almost. She covered her mouth with her other hand, scrunching up the scarf and stuffing it in, muffling the noises she was unwillingly making.

Tears running down her face, she stopped pouring. Crying a little, she looked at the wound, trying to see if the whiskey made any visible difference.

She couldn't tell, big surprise. She moistened some toilet paper with the whiskey, and cleaned up her cuts and nicks, the pain from doing so mild compared to putting it on the bullet wound.

She drank the last sip of whiskey, and tossed the bottle to the side. Her eyes catching the wound, Quinn started crying again, this time not stopping herself.

* * *

Quinn approached the from the café cautiously, broken glass crunching under her feet. She hadn't noticed before, but someone had broken the windows and glass door to the café.

Seeing that, she knew that she probably wasn't going to find much in here. But at least the chances of finding a trapped zombie were slim.

Shrugging, she stepped through the doorway, and quickly headed for the kitchen, wrinkling her nose at the smell coming from the walk in freezer, a sickly meaty smell that she could smell all the way from the front. She didn't turn her flashlight on until she was past the swinging door that separated the front of the café from the kitchen.

The smell was worse back here.

The cupboards were all open, and she half heartedly shone her flashlight in them, not expecting anything.

She was pleasantly surprised to find the first cupboard yielded a dozen different herbs, seasonings and some salt. She put them in her tote, already deciding that made the trip worth it. Her rice would be well seasoned at least.

Further searching found a bag of flour, and a round container of lard that had been missed by whoever came through before her. She could work with that, somehow.

She turned around, retracing her steps. She went carefully, mindful she had probably spent too much time on her ankle, if the shooting pain she could feel through the nips of whiskey were any indication.

She was cold, too, and ready to go figure out how to cook some food and go get under clean blankets. Shivering, she thought she heard a noise.

Turning at the sound, she smacked her hand against an open cupboard door, knocking the flashlight out of her hand.

Mentally rolling her eyes at herself for being a cliché, she carefully, one eye on where she had heard the noise coming from, got down to get her flashlight from where it had rolled under the counter.

Scrambling, she grabbed it. Then grinned.

Apparently she hadn't been the only one dropping things under the counter. Using her crutch, she pulled out several cans and a metal box.

All three cans were of thick, hearty looking soups that made Quinn's stomach rumble just looking at them.

The box, though, made her happiest. It was a first aid kit. She popped open the metal latch, and smiled down, looking at the near full contents. There was even a small tin of bag balm in it, that someone has taped a post it note to the top so it read "Josh Balm".

She wondered if the people that had worked here, if Josh, were okay as stuffed her latest finds in her bag and stood up.

She let out a yawn, and looked at where she had heard the noise one last time. She hadn't heard it again, so it was likely a rat or the wind or something.

Holding the bag carefully, she limped out of the kitchen, stopping only to grab a dispenser of napkins from one of the tables, and to turn off her flashlight.

Outside, the wind roared, pelting her with rain. Shivering harder, she stepped into the thrift store, the bell still making noise as she locked the door behind her.

She stopped only to grab the motley collection of wooden picture frames, a couple of wire hangers, and a pillow she had decided not to use because it looked shabby and threadbare.

Once she was upstairs, she wasted no time in setting her things on top of the desk, and opening the first aid kit. She rummaged through it, she grabbed what she thought she needed, and went into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, the scratches and nicks that were unprotected by her clothes (and a few of the worst looking ones that were,) were covered in bandages. She used butterfly bandages to bind her bullet wounds edges together.

She needed to find a mask or something like that to wear for when she next had to leave the thrift store, there was no way she was risking getting zombie goo into that wound.

Limping over there, she cracked open both windows and started trying to make a fire in one of the pots. The constant repetitiveness of the car alarm was almost soothing.

It took her half an hour, even with the matches and pillow stuffing, but finally, she had a small bit of warmth and fire in the metal pot. She knew enough not to try to start a fire inside something Teflon.

The first thing she did was, using the metal coat hangers to support a smaller pot, boil some water for a cup of tea.

The hot liquid revived her, and seemed to warm her up from the inside.

Shivering less, she set a bigger pot of water for rice to boil.

While that was heating up, she had repacked the first aid kit, going so far as to organize her food and drink (even refilling her water bottles) into the tote bag, and everything else back into her backpack. She even went downstairs to get a new, dry, sweatshirt, skirt, stocking cap and scarf. The sweatshirt was dark green with a unicorn on it, the skirt was knee length black wool, the scarf was made of a super soft yarn in various shades ranging from grey to black, while the stocking cap was a simple black.

After checking the water, she changed into the dry clothes. She made her bed with the blankets and pillows she had brought up, making a nice nest that she was sure Brittany would approve of.

She even lit a couple of the candles, flipping the office trashcan upside down and making a makeshift end table for her nest. She reminded herself, a little grossed out, not to pick up the trash can for any reason, given the used looking tissues and mounds of candy wrappers that occupied it. She certainly didn't want to have to pick them up.

She shoving the rest of the candles back into her backpack along with her flashlight. No sense in wasting the batteries, and the dim light from the candles wouldn't be as noticeable outside the thrift store, especially since they were only a foot or so off the ground.

She had nothing else to do, she realized, staring at the pot of water that was only beginning to stir and sipping her tea.

The place was as secure as she could make it (not that it mattered since apparently all the zees in town were entranced by the car alarm), she was warm, her cuts, scrapes, and bullet wound were taken care of, and she had food cooking. Sure, in a few days she'd have to go look through the other buildings in town for more food, and figure out what she could do with a tub of lard and flour, but for now?

All she needed to do was wait for the water to boil, the rice to cook, and the soup to heat up.

Waiting. She could do that easily. Taking another sip of her tea, she pulled her iPod out of the front of her newly organized backpack, pausing only to sigh and rub a finger along the new cracks in the screen. They must have happened when she fell down the embankment. She put the headphones in, and turned it on, glad it still worked, even if the screen was broken.

Once she had joined the Skanks, 90% of her music had been replaced with classic rock and '90s pop, but she still had a little bit of modern music on it.

Adele's soothing voice came on, and Quinn picked up one of the Mary Higgins Clark books and started to read, squinting in the dim candle light.

She was warm, safe, and her biggest problem was boredom waiting for water to boil. She could get used to this.

Easily.

* * *

"Rachel, come on," Finn said, pleading.

Rachel sighed, "Finn, I am just not comfortable with the rifle, my father's rifle, my _grandfather's_ rifle, leaving my possession. Please try to understand that."

"Rachel, you haven't used it since we got here. And you won't be on the supply runs or anything, so you won't _have_ to use it. With the missing guns, me and some of the other guys won't have a gun when we make our next supply run. We're actually going to Harkerville, you know. It's going to be a two day trip. Don't you want me to be safe? And Dahlia's going to start crawling and walking and stuff, so it'd be safer if it's stored with the other guns when I'm not on a run," Finn pointed out, smiling at her.

A wave of guilt went through Rachel. Finn _did_ have a point. And if they weren't planning on leaving tonight, she would very likely, abet reluctantly, relinquish the rifle for his and the group as a wholes safety.

"Very well Finn, you have convinced me. Tomorrow, I shall allow you to have it, I need to ensure it is well cleaned and oiled first," she said eventually, guilt hitting her hard. She would have a lot of making up to do to him once they were away from the cabin, for she had lied by omission about the plan to leave, and now she was out right lying to him.

"You're amazing Rachel, " he said happily, bending down and giving her a kiss that turned into full on making out for several moments. Once they finished, he looked so happy she was almost tempted to just hand the rifle over to him right now.

Which was foolish, and she quickly ignored those thoughts. She'd make it up to him somehow.

Even if she was still quite upset with him for his reaction to Mack's death. He had not been here, and had flatly refused to believe that the heads had simply murdered Mack.

But she had yet again decided something for the both of him, and was not planning on informing him until it was too late for him to say no. So perhaps she was the more guilty of the two.

Finn happily chattered about some of the other guys who was in his group, and Rachel paid enough attention that he didn't notice she was not engaging him in actual conversation.

Tonight was the night.

Rachel was very scared. Something could go wrong when they attempted to leave, Quinn could not be in Harkerville near the water tower when they arrived, or it was far too dangerous for a group of teenagers and children to survive outside the safety of the cabin.

Luckily, the weather was quite windy and rainy, and the booming thunder and lightning only helped things. It would be uncomfortable making trips back and forth to the vehicles, still all parked outside the gate, and she was worried the children would catch a cold being brought out into it, but even racking their brains they had yet to come up with a better idea on how to leave safely, with even a fraction of the supplies they'd need.

Finn was looking like now was a great time to make love again, when Sarah came into Rachel and Tina's room.

"Oh, um," she said, looking at Rachel wide eyed, "I need to speak to Rachel. Sorry. Alone. Sorry again," Sarah stumbled out.

Finn, obviously thinking it was a girl thing he didn't want to know about, said, "Hey Sarah. It's cool, I need to go tell Ira Rachel's giving her rifle up tomorrow anyway," He ruffled Sarah's hair, and gave Rachel a grin, and quickly left.

Sarah looked at Rachel, scared, "You're not actually giving them the rifle, won't we…" she trailed off.

Rachel stepped forward, and tentatively wrapped an arm around Sarah, giving her a hug. "No, I am not. But, as we are keeping…various secrets from Finn, I am allowing him to believe I am. I do not care for lying, but in this case I believed it was necessary."

Sarah smiled shyly at Rachel, but didn't relax as she normally did when Rachel braved Santana and hugged her. Frowning, Rachel pulled away, looking at Sarah carefully. "What is wrong Sarah."

"I…don't want to tell you. Santana is gonna be mad at me, _Brittany_ is gonna be mad at me," Sarah whispered, looking down at the ground and refusing to look at Rachel.

Rachel took a deep, calming breath, letting it in and out slowly. "I cannot promise Santana or Brittany will not be angry, but Sarah, if it's something important…something that may affect our…plans," Rachel said carefully, but firmly, "Then I must insist you tell me right this moment, so that we may handle any issues that may arise now, before this evening."

"I…" Sarah trailed off, looking at the ground. Rachel waited patiently for a few minutes. She was just about to be far firmer with the younger girl, when Sarah said, in a rush, "I told Kyle we were going to leave."

"Just Kyle, no one else?" Rachel said, her mind already racing with the possibilities.

Sarah nodded, "And he told his Aunt who told Ms. Emma. And he says they want to speak to you and Santana about it. Are you mad at me Rachel?"

"You are certain that you have not told any of the other children? This is very important Sarah," Rachel said firmly. She would need to inform Santana.

"Kyle's my best friend. He's been really sad since his parents and brothers…just like I've been sad about Puck and Mom. So I told him, and said maybe we'd take him with us so that we could still be friends. I didn't know he was going to tell Ms. Terri. I'm sorry Rachel." Sarah looked like she was going to cry, and Rachel put her arm around her again, letting out a relieved breath.

"I am upset with you, but I am not mad. I understand. Next time, before you do such an important thing, please try to speak to Santana or Brittany or I first, alright?"

Rachel's mind whirled as she thought through what this could mean. Surely Terri and Emma would not attempt to stop them from leaving?

* * *

"If..if you don't take us with you, I'll tell everyone!" Kyle said, his freckles standing out on his pale face as Emma put an arm around him.

Santana was pretty sure she hadn't heard him speak so many words at one time, ever, not even when his brothers were alive.

She was still trying to process that Terri and Emma wanted to leave with them. That didn't stop her from scowling at the red haired pipsqueak.

Rachel seemed confused as well, "I am afraid I don't understand Terri. You are quite far along in your pregnancy, why would you wish to leave with us?"

Terri looked pointedly at Emma, who answered for her, "She doesn't want to leave, not really. But we've heard what Frannie did to Mack, from Brittany."

"And she brought up that, with the amount of people that are here…well, winter," Terri said, she took her hand off her stomach, and waved it towards the window, where rain pelted it, "Is clearly here. And even assuming that there's a lot of food to be found in the surrounding houses and Harkerville, and the winter garden goes well, keeping so many people fed…and with so many people, the flu or whatever….not to mention I am not totally please with the religious stuff," she sighed, trailing off.

"So she will have a much better chance for survival for the three of them switching to a much smaller group, " Emma said pointedly.

"Even if it's nothing but teenagers and children," Terri scowled at Emma.

"I think I know you all well enough to know how'd you react to what happened to Mack, " Emma said, turning from Terri to Santana and Rachel, "but I had not been able to find a moment to speak to any of you, until Kyle told us what Sarah let slip to him."

"If you don't take us we'll tell, " Kyle repeated himself, glaring at Santana.

"Shhh, it'll be okay Kyle. Of course we shall be taking you with us," Rachel said, trying to sooth the agitated child. Rachel looked at Santana expectantly, "Right Santana?"

Santana was really starting to hate being looked at like that, like she had all the answers and knew what the hell she was doing. "Whatever, more the merrier. Make sure you're ready to go tonight, don't take what isn't absolutely needed, things are going to be tight. Emma, you'll have to join us in packing and crap. " She'd figure out where the three of them, and their stuff, would go later.

Rachel beamed at her, prompting Santana to scowl at her.

Which did nothing to stop Rachel smiling at Santana. Santana was definitely losing her touch.

She opened her mouth to say something mean, something that would wipe the smile off Rachel's face in a flash…but stopped herself. Instead, as she listened to Rachel help Emma and Terri decide what they should take, she fingered the short fringe in the leather jacket she was reluctantly wearing.

It was a bad ass coat, don't get her wrong, and she totally looked like even more of a badass in it. She just didn't want to wear it because it was the Mack's.

* * *

The thick clouds, hard rain, and gusty wind dimmed the light from the full moon enough that they weren't visible, but they could see enough without a tell tale flashlight. It was amazing luck.

Santana took a deep breath, and nodded to Sam. He put the tote box he'd been carrying on the ground next to Santana, and turned around towards the chicken coop, rain pelting him. Santana shoved the box she was holding into Kurt's SUV, then picked up and put Sam's box on top of it.

That was the last of the supplies. They had pared it down to only two trips, taking their belongings with them to the cars on the first trip out to the cars instead of saving that for last, and stopping to get the lighter things like medicine, guns, and ammo to carry with their belongings.

Even though no one was satisfied with how much food and water that'd give them, they had decided it the best chance they had of getting out of here cleanly.

It was only midnight, or it had been when they'd started. There was a real possibility that there were people still awake, and so the less trips they made the better.

Santana figured they had a weeks' worth. They had a good amount of medicine, guns, and ammo, so that was something at least.

Brittany gave Santana a wet peck on the cheek, and whispered, "I'm going to go get Beth, be back in five," then turned and started walking away.

Santana reached out, and grabbed her wrist, pulling the blonde girl closer so she could whisper to her, as the rain poured on them both, "Promise me that you'll be careful Britts?"

Brittany, nodded, shot her a brilliant smile, and headed back to the cabin. Santana watched the woman she loved jump happily into a puddle for a moment, desperately hoping Brittany was as sneaky as she kept insisting she was.

Santana turned to the others, which was everyone but Terri and Finn, who gathered around, waiting for her.

"Alright, We'll have to do a little reorganizing to account for the gas Kurt got. Good job on that too, Kurt, I don't think we'll have to stop for gas for a few days," She nodded at him.

He nodded back weakly, standing close to Blaine and looking like someone had shot his puppy. Santana would bet money it was because his sweater was stupidly expensive and getting ruined in the rain.

"Next up, kids, cat, Finn and Terri. Then we'll help Sam get the chicken cage. Then we're gone. We've already moved the car seats around. Rachel and I spent too much time figuring out how to organize everyone, so I don't want any bitching," she glared at everyone so they'd get the point, "I've got Quinn's SUV, Emma, Sarah, and Beth. Sam's got Puck's truck and his siblings. Rachel's got Kurt's SUV with Tiffany, Terri, Kyle, and Dahlia. Blaine's got Mack's van, Tina, Finn, Brittany and Lord Tubbington."

"What if we can find Quinn?" Blaine asked.

"_When_ we find Quinn, she'll ride with me," Santana snapped at him. Kurt glared at her, and Santana knew it was only the fact that they were on a covert mission to leave that she was mostly in charge of that stopped him from saying something. She'd probably hear about it later from him though. From Rachel, too, if the look Berry was giving Santana was any indication. She could hear the lecture now, _"Santana, there are no stupid questions"_ ...

"Rachel, " Finn looked at the shorter girl, "What's going on." He stood on the driveway, looking at them all in his sweatpants and hoodie, soaked to the bone and very confused. Santana actually jumped at his voice, and cursed in Spanish. While the rain, wind, thunder and lightning were doing an amazing job of keeping anyone from knowing they were out here, it was also apparently doing a great job of helping someone sneak up on them.

Santana watched as Rachel's face went from worry, to placating in one swift motion. Rachel said calmly, "I was just about to get you Finn. We're leaving, going to find Quinn, and staying elsewhere."

"Rachel….why?" Santana had to hand it to Finn, for once he actually looked hurt instead of mildly constipated. Everyone but the pair stepped back slightly to give them a tiny bit of privacy, and it irritated Santana a little. But at the same time, it _was_ entertainment. She figured they had a couple of minutes, she'd hurry them along if they insisted on taking too long though.

"Frannie killed Mack. Pastor Zadock will not marry us because of my religion, they kicked out Quinn," Rachel said, looking sorrowful at Finn.

"No…I meant why wouldn't you tell me?"

Santana watched Rachel sigh, "Kurt and I decided. I-"

Finn interrupted her, "There you go making choices for us both again Rachel. If you had just _talked_ to me about it. Why do you have to be so controlling?"

"I helped her decide that Finn," Kurt said hotly, "You haven't even noticed how differently they treat Blaine and Me."

"You could have blabbed to someone, we couldn't take that risk, " Santana drawled. She was already bored with the Finchel relationship drama. Didn't compare to her soaps at all. They could hurry it up, figure it out later, right now they had more important things to do.

"Stay out of this Santana, " Finn shot at her, "And Kurt…no one's said anything to either of you? No bullying, no beatings, no mean words right?"

"No…but my instinct says that not going to last Finn. It's just…odd, alright? If dad were…alive, that'd be different," Kurt looked even more miserable.

"Your gut isn't fact thought Kurt, alright? You can't just have a feeling things are going to turn bad, that they're _odd_," Finn said, shaking his head before he turned back to Rachel.

"I'm..I'm sorry Finn. I should have told you, and discussed it with you. I will make this up to you, I promise," Rachel said, looking at Finn kinda like a sweet adorable soaked kitten Santana wanted to puke a little.

Finn looked down, "Rachel, I was going to tell you…one of the guys on my shift was ordained online. I already talked to Pastor Zadock, who said it was okay if Zack married us... I was waiting for the right time to tell you. I already put our name on the list for a cabin…"

"Finn, there are far too many people here. It will be easier with a small group, " Emma started, taking advantage of Rachel's silence.

Finn glared at her hotly, silencing Emma, then looked at Rachel.

They all stood there, soaking (Not that they could get any wetter, by now anyway,) in the rain for a few moments waiting for Rachel's reply, before Rachel finally said, "I know you like the way things are going here Finn, but they killed Mack. They exiled Quinn…"

"I'm not going to stop you, any of you from leaving if that's what you want," Finn said gently, taking Rachel into his arms, "They can go if they want Rachel. Dahlia could grow up safe here. We could start having more kids. Pastor Zadock had even mentioned starting up a small committee for building moral and keeping it, I suggested to him you be the head of it. He was impressed with your resume. You could sing again, put on plays…"

Rachel gasped, and pulled away from Finn. "I love you Finn. Even if things have not been the best they could be between us lately, I truly do love you."

Finn gave Rachel a dopey grin, but before he could speak, she continued, "But I do not think staying here is the best idea."

Finn shook his head, "Rach. It's dangerous out there. Some of the guys told me some of the stuff that happened to them while they were getting here. They even found some zombies that weren't like zombies at all, but I'm pretty sure he was messing with me..."

"Finn…"

"If you go…when you change your mind, realize how bad it is out there, and come back…I can wait a little while for you, but not that long. Eventually, I'll move on, find someone else, and be just as happy with her as I would be with you. I could die on the next supply run, I…can't…stay with me Rachel, stay here. Quinn can take care of herself, she doesn't need you. She doesn't need _any_ of you."

"Please please don't make me choose Finn."

Finn didn't say anything, just looked at Rachel.

With a sob, Rachel said, "I'm so sorry Finn. I choose Quinn. And Santana and Tina, and Brittany and Blaine and Sam and Kurt. But mostly I choose the Mack. Frannie _killed_ her, Finn. That should be reason enough to go."

Finn looked away from her, towards the trees. He simply said, "Quinn killed Shelby, Rachel. That should be reason enough to stay. I hope I'm wrong, and everything's okay out there Rachel. "

Santana figured this was time for her to step in, "If you two are done, we need to get the kids. Brittany and Sam should be done any minute, too. Finn…" Santana had no idea what to say to Finn. Her usual go to insults didn't seem appropriate, not if she wanted him to keep silent.

"Just because we broke up...I...I'm still not going to blab Santana, okay?" Finn said with a sigh, looking at Rachel sadly.

"I'm going to," a nasally voice from behind Finn said. Jacob Ben Israel stepped over to them, waving a gun around and looking, Santana thought with a sneer, like a drowned rat.

Santana looked at the sky angrily, the rain pelting her face. If she was honest, she felt a little betrayed by the weather. It was supposed to help them, not help people sneak up on them. Who was next, the creepy old dude that had pinched her butt and winked at her this morning?

"Jacob, if they want to leave they can," Finn said morosely, clearly not worried about Jacob.

Jacob waved the gun around wildly towards Santana, Tina, Blaine, Kurt, and Emma, who had clustered towards her in the attempt to give Finn and Rachel a little bit of privacy, "They're going to find that bitch though. Quinn broke my mom's camera! It was all I had left of my mom, it meant something to me, she had it since before she married my dad. And Quinn just broke it! Quinn can die out there alone," Jacob said, spittle flying out of his mouth, noticeable enough that Santana could somehow still see it in the rain. Gross.

Lightning flashed, and Santana realized that Brittany should have been definitely been back by now. If she was honest, things had been going well enough and she was running on being a bad ass and adrenaline, so she hadn't actually been worried about tonight, letting Rachel do the worrying for both of them. But now worry for Brittany was starting to claw at her insides. She had to get Jacob dealt with, and go find Brittany.

Santana needed to get one of the guns and shoot him, the weather would cover the noise. Or no, wait, this was _Jacob Ben Israel._

She'd offer to let him feel Rachel's boobs if he let them go without any problems.

Hell, if she offered him the pair of panties Rachel was wearing right now, she could probably get him to carry Terri's belongings, and let the air out of two tires of every vehicle at the cabin except theirs.

It was Jacob Ben Israel, after all, the gun probably wasn't even_ loaded._

She was wondering how Finn would take it when she offered Rachel's boobs to Jacob, when Finn gently said, stepping towards Jacob, "Hey man, Quinn's probably long gone by now anyway. Maybe you should put that thing down."

"Don't come any closer Finn!" Jacob said, emphasizing with the gun, still waving it at Santana and her group. He must have hit the trigger, Santana realized in half a split second after she heard three shots. She was looking at Jacob's shocked face as a white hot paint hit her shoulder, and spread through her body instantly.

Santana's last coherent thought as the world turned black was hoping Brittany was okay.

* * *

**A/N:**

Santana fainted from the pain and shock of being shot, she did not get a head injury in case that wasn't clear.

Official Finn Rachel breakup. :D And no, Finn was not one of the people shot. Sorry, but Jacob was waving the gun towards Santana and the others, not towards Finn. That'd be too easier.

So remember when Quinn broke Jacob's camera? No?

Well _Jacob_ certainly remembers. And so do my notes. I even wrote and underlined "actions have consequences" just so I wouldn't neglect to add it.

They you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows, I appreciate them. They really do help me sit down and write.


	17. Welcome to the Jungle

"Santana?!" Tina's worried voice, sounded far away.

With a lot of effort, Santana opened her eyes. She let out a moan, and tried to sit up.

"Santana you fainted, you shouldn't…"

Ignoring the Asian girl, Santana used her good arm, (because if the sheer pain flowing through her other arm was any indication, then she definitely had a good and a bad one,) to sit up, then pull herself up by the SUV's bumper.

She stood dizzily, for a moment, ignoring Tina. Ignoring what everyone around her was saying, it was all noise, not words.

She stood there, just breathing deeply in and out for a moment. The rain and wind pelting her, not that she could get much wetter.

She realized she was shivering.

She looked down at her arm, and anger surged through her.

Jacob. Ben. Israel. Had shot her. Mack's coat had a hole in it now. And so did her freaking upper arm.

She hadn't wanted the stupid coat in the first place, but Berry had insisted.

_Santana looked at the coat, and then cocked her head to the side at Rachel. "I don't want it Berry. I know you don't want much of Mack's stuff going to the community pile, and I understand that. I do. But... " _

_She swallowed. If she had ignored the Mack wishes, and as soon as Frannie had started talking, stepped out from her hiding place and backed Mack up, maybe Mack and Beth and Sarah would be with Quinn right now. Assuming Quinn was waiting in Harkerville. Or hell, if she had demanded Mack wait till the rest of them left too, maybe Mack would be alive._

_Rachel frowned at Santana, "I know you do not Santana, you made that quite clear when Brittany and Sarah selected what they wanted. Leather is quite protective, it will take quite a bit for a zombie to bite through it, and I am very sure you will need it once we leave. So take it. If you do not, I will give it to Brittany who will simply keep it with her things until our first supply run, where she will pout until you agree to wear it anyway."_

_Santana scowled at Rachel, "Listen Man Hands, I said _no._"_

_Rachel looked at Santana, "It is not your fault, what happened to her. If you had unhidden yourself, you would have died too. Frannie would have happily murdered you both, and Sarah. And Mack was not going to wait for the rest of us to be ready to leave, even if we had known we were leaving as soon as we are. That is just how the Mack was."_

_"Jesus Berry, since when do you read minds," Santana spat out, reaching out to grab that coat from Rachel's hands, "I'm only taking it so you stop talking."_

_"I know," Rachel said, and dared to give Santana a small smile._

_Santana glared at her, already reaching for a pair of scissors to cut the foot long fringe off into her best estimate of half an inch. Rachel didn't even flinch or step away, obviously not afraid Santana would get stabby. _

_Clearly Santana was losing her touch. When she was done, she looked down at her handy work, deciding it would do. Rachel was still there, just watching her. So Santana had tossed her a smirk, and said, "Don't read my mind between 11 pm and midnight. Or 4 am to 5 am. That's my mes time. You might like what I'm doing or thinking too much, Finnocence would never compare."_

_"Please do not be crude Santana," Rachel had simply said sighing._

_Kurt's reaction to seeing the coat "mutilated" (in his words) and nearly crying at what he claimed she had done to a fifteen hundred dollar jacket, had almost made it worth taking it._

She did look even more bad ass in it, she had to admit. And she felt like Mack was there in spirit or something, too, even if that was totally dumb because she didn't believe in that stuff.

"Santana!" Tina's voice tore through Santana's memory, catching Santana's attention.

She looked…well, glared at Tina.

"Santana I need to look at it, alright?" Tina continued murmuring at her, while she inspected the wound with a small flashlight. Santana stared at the woods surrounding them, the trees hazy and shadowed.

"I…" Tina said, then swallowed, hesitating, before finally finishing, "I think it went through clean your arm and it didn't hit anything important. You are really lucky Santana. You'll need stitches, though. I think I can do those…" Quickly, before Santana could stop her, Tina tied a scarf around her arm.

Santana found her voice, gritting her teeth, she spat out, "Jacob fucking Ben Israel shot me."

"Yeah. Kurt and Ms. Pillsbury too. She's…not okay,"

Santana pulled herself away from Tina, and looked at the others.

Kurt was clutching the side of his head, Blaine hovering next to him.

Ms. Pillsbury was lying on ground, Finn and Rachel trying to help her. Even with the rain, Santana could see the puddle of blood starting to form under her.

Jacob Ben Israel had fallen to his knees, the gun next to him, as he stared at Ms. Pillsbury's body.

Anger was replaced by rage.

Without thinking, she ran and hurdled herself at Jacob. The rage flowing through her made the pain in her arm and the ever present ache in her knee seem insignificant.

She landed on him, pushing him into the mud.

Pure rage powered her as she punched him in the face, her bad arm sending waves of pain into her as she used it to prop herself up.

The black eye given to him by the Mack had already faded away to almost nothing, some part of her noticed.

It'd be gone completely soon. Gone like Mack. Like her parents. Her grandmother. Her _entire_ family.

Gone.

Santana punched him harder. By the time strong arms pulled her off of him, her knuckles were cut and bloody.

Jacob's face was an unrecognizable muddy bloody swollen bruised mess.

His glasses were broken and in the mud next to him.

She struggled in the arms holding her, but they didn't let her go. After a few moments, she stopped struggling, suddenly tired.

"It's going to be okay Santana," Sam, she realized, was murmuring into her ear.

She pulled herself out of his arms roughly, and said, "Kurt?" Her arm was sending waves of pain through her body.

"It just clipped his ear, he'll be fine. I'm more concerned about you."

"I'm fine. Brittany?" She looked at the colorful scarf still wrapped around her arm, then back at Jacob.

"She's…still not back yet Santana."

At this, Santana turned from Jacob back towards the others. Tina, Kurt, Blaine, Rachel and Finn were huddle together like penguins next to Kurt's SUV, just staring at Ms. Pillsbury's body.

Santana looked at the blood that had seeped out of the hole in the side of Ms. Pillsbury's throat, feeling hollow. Everything felt washed out and colorless.

But they were counting on her. Brittany was counting on her. _Quinn_ was counting on her.

She took another deep breath, then turned to Sam, "You done?"

The blonde boy nodded, so Santana said, "Tina, Blaine, Kurt, go help Sam. Someone probably heard the gun, we're on borrowed time."

The trio just stared at Santana, so she barked, "Now!" The trio each looked one last time at Ms. Pillsbury's body, before walking away with Sam.

Sam picked up Jacob's gun on their way to the chicken coop.

Santana swallowed heavily, then snapped out, "We've got to move her out of the road."

Neither Finn nor Rachel gave her any arguments, just silently moving to do what she told them, and Santana was grateful.

Finn grabbed the red haired woman's feet, and each girl took a wrist.

Santana tried to ignore how warm it still felt, how sticky it was with blood and mud, even though the rain was still pelting down on them.

They moved her to the side of the road, near the fence.

"Santana?" Brittany's voice rang out, and time slowed down as Santana turned towards her, "Sorry I took so long, Lord Tubbington want to go…." Brittany trailed off, eyes darting to Ms. Pillsbury's body.

It took a few seconds for Santana to realize that Brittany was loaded down, holding a toddler on each hip, and wearing both a black diaper bag and a backpack. Santana took her eyes off Brittany to see Sarah with her things, wearing Puck's letterman jacket and holding the hand of a sleepily looking blonde child who was wearing a pink backpack and clutching a rag doll and a knitted blanket.

Santana was at a loss of words, before she realized it was raining hard on them all, and the last thing they needed was to get sick.

"Rachel, let's get them in the cars." The brunette looked as surprised as Santana felt. Santana and Rachel crossed the ten feet or so that separated them from Brittany.

"Brittany, is that Frannie's two youngest children," Rachel hissed, eyes darting to where Finn was busy helping Jacob move out of the road.

"Yup. I had to have Sarah help me, but she was already awake anyway."

"Why would you…we are going to have enough difficulty without adding two more children, Brittany," Rachel whispered quickly to Brittany, even as she was taking Beth from the blonde girl's arms.

Santana took Chris, putting him on her good side, and wincing at how wet the sleepy toddler already was; last thing they needed was a bunch of sick kids.

Free of the two toddlers, Brittany picked up Abby, giving Sarah a brilliant smile.

"Because Frannie totally stole Beth. This way, Quinn wins. Even if we were the ones that actually took them, it still counts because we're on Quinn's team," Brittany said, flashing them a grin.

"Let's get them in the cars before Finn sees and tries to stop us, " Santana muttered, giving Sarah a nod.

Santana wasn't exactly happy about having two more tiny, helpless mouths to feed but Brittany had clearly made up her mind, and when she's done that there's no arguing with her. Not to mention they were on a time limit, and Santana had no idea how Brittany had managed to snag the three children, let alone how they would manage to put them back.

"Did you stop and think that, perhaps Quinn would not like the addition of two more children into her care, Brittany," Rachel asked, standing still and refusing to move, the wind whipping her soaked hair around as she stared at Brittany.

"Rachel, it'll be okay. It won't be like now or before, we'll all take care of all the kids. We'll be a team." Brittany gave Rachel a smile, and her reassurances must have worked, or Rachel just didn't want to deal with this, because Rachel sighed, muttered "Very well," and led them to the cars.

As the four of them moved to the cars, they all watched Finn. Finn was squatting next to Jacob, who was sitting up against a tree. They were talking quietly, and Finn wasn't paying any attention to them. Santana quickly directed them to put all the kids in Quinn's SUV.

"We will have to, as soon as we can, find proper car seats for them, " Rachel muttered once the children were safely in the car.

"Sarah, you're in charge of 'em alright?" Santana said, "They're all half asleep anyway, change them into some dry clothes, get them comfortable and read to them or something."

"Santana perhaps we should assist Sarah?" Rachel asked, frowning.

Sarah was old enough to do what Santana asked of her, even if the girl was probably sleepy and really soaked herself.

"No time. We've gotta get Terri and the rest and get the hell out of here," Santana gave Sarah what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then closed the door quietly before Rachel could argue, "Come on."

Santana took a deep breath, and looked at the scarf tied around her arm again as they walked. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, she was shivering and cold, and already she could feel the adrenalin leaving her.

On the path to the house, they met Sam and the other's.

Sam had, using wood and hardware cloth from around the property, somehow managed to build a cage-like coop that would fit over the back of Puck's truck bed.

The sides were solid wood that would sit almost two feet up from the edge of the truck, then the hardware cloth went up for another foot.

There were an old ladder he had added more wood to that made up the roost inside. The roof was part tarps, part old looking wood.

Sam, Tina, Blaine and Kurt each had a corner of it, and were lugging it quickly, clearly ready to be done and gone, even as the wind fought to pull it away from them.

Santana simply gave Sam a nod as they passed.

Santana had no idea what the hell they'd do with the chickens if Puck's truck died. Eat them, maybe. The cage looked sturdy enough though, at least. Although it probably depended on how old the wood was Sam used.

The cabin was dark and foreboding as they walked into the porch door, slipping quietly inside. The water beaded off of them, leaving little puddles behind them as they crept through the house, and up the stairs.

Santana breathed a little easier when they were on their floor. Even if she knew that they weren't any safer then they had been, it felt like they were just being there.

Terri and Kyle were waiting in their room when Santana went to get them.

Terri looked confused at seeing Santana instead of Ms. Pillsbury, but simply frowned while Kyle handed Santana her suitcase instead of saying anything.

Santana grit her teeth at the weight, putting most of it on her good side. Terri seemed to move agonizingly slow as she stood up, and double checked that she had everything she wanted. The pregnant woman nodded at her nephew, who slug his backpack on and hefted a duffle bag.

Terri picked up a neat stack of bedding, already shoved into a trash bag and roped so that she could wear it on her back, and together the three of them went into the hall.

Rachel and Brittany were loaded down with Dahlia and Tiffany, respectively. Both also had bags and rolled up bedding as well.

Santana jerked her head towards the door, and together they crept along, the wind pushing against them, and the rain pelting them.

Before Santana knew it, they were back at the cars. She was shivering, harder, and when Sam got out of Puck's truck, (the makeshift chicken coop looked held on to the bed with ropes, bungee cords, and even duct tape,) and gave her a thumbs up she actually grinned. She helped Terri into Kurt's SUV, and got her and Kyle settled before tossing their things into the back.

Finn and Jacob were nowhere to be seen, and she figured Sam had dealt with them. Good. She had enough of the both of them to last her a lifetime.

They were so close to being gone, she thought as she pushed her way through the wind back to Quinn's SUV. The grin faltered when she went to get into the driver's seat and found Tina there instead.

"Santana…your arm. You don't want to pass out again, but this time while driving, do you?"

Santana scowled, but got in the passenger seat without argument, then turned around to check on the kids.

Sarah was reading to Abby, but the other two were sleeping. Santana smiled a little, as she noted that all four children were in dry clothes.

She had been right, Sarah could handle it. Rachel was just going to have to cut the apron strings a little.

"Good job Sarita," Santana said. Sarah stopped reading, and beamed at her, Puck's letterman jacket making her look even smaller, for a moment before resuming.

Santana made a mental note to stop letting her hang out around Rachel so much if she was going to pick up her mannerisms. Last thing they needed was another Berry.

Santana turned around, and buckled her seat belt, wincing when it brushed against her wound.

"As soon as we hit Harkerville, you…." Tina trailed off, and darted a look at Santana.

Santana glared at her. Santana knew exactly what she'd be doing when they got to Harkerville.

"When we hit Harkerville, I'm going to find Quinn, then we're getting the hell out of there before they catch up to us," Santana said, keeping her voice low. Last thing they needed were the toddlers waking up grumpy.

"Santana, your arm needs attention."

"Tina, we need to find Quinn, " Santana said snidely.

"Santana, the chances that Quinn is actually there, waiting for us are low. The chances your arm is going to get bad without attention are high," Tina said calmly, but there was an edge to her voice Santana had never heard from her.

"We're going to get in, get Quinn, and get out," Santana said flatly, "Maybe if we find Quinn quick you can bandage it. You said it went clean through, missed the important stuff. It'll be fine. Might look around, see if there's anything worth taking if we've got time."

Tina started the car, without flipping on the lights, turned it around and started down the road, the other three cars following behind her.

"I need to look it over better, and it definitely needs stitches at the very least. We'll have a little time since Kurt filled up every gas can on the property, and hopefully it'll take them some time to find the cars he didn't empty. But…" Tina sighed, and took a deep breath, "We can't spend much time on finding Quinn. They didn't give her a weapon…we all saw her bag. Santana…we all know that. We all.."

"Then it'll get stitches, whatever. One way or another we're finding Quinn," Santana said, gritting her teeth to control what she wanted to do and say to Tina right now. There were kids in the car, luckily for her, Santana thought darkly.

"When we stop to get the guns, take off your coat so I can tie the scarf around your arm better," was all Tina had to say to her.

Santana glowered at the Asian girl.

Quinn would be there. She had to be.

* * *

The drive from the cabin to town had been silent, Santana too angry to try to speak to Tina. Anger eventually gave way to a bone tired weariness, but Santana couldn't sleep, her arm hurt too much, and she was worried about what they'd find when they got to Harkerville.

Worried about how hard it'd be to find Quinn in the dark.

She wasn't dumb. She wasn't delusional, she knew that chances were good if Quinn was waiting for them it was because she wanted to have them for dinner. Or she was just plain dead, that the guards could have killed her a few miles away from the cabin and hung around waiting then came back like they hadn't just murdered a teenage girl. If Mack could die like she did, then anything was possible.

But she had to believe, had to have a little hope that Quinn was alive. Had to be a stubborn bitch, and insist they search the town, taking precious time and energy and risking the searchers because who the hell knew where a zombie would pop up.

Because there was always a _chance._ And hell, Santana knew that the possibility that Quinn was out there, waiting for them, wondering where they were, would absolutely haunt Santana for however long the rest of her days were.

Plus Santana was a bitch, she knew that, and it would be better for everyone if Quinn had the leadership hat. So yeah, there was that too.

They were parked a quarter mile or so out of Harkerville, taking up both lanes. Had been for a few minutes now.

Tina hadn't even made an attempt to take care of Santana's bullet wound. Neither of them spoke. All four kids were sleeping soundly, thankfully. Santana didn't have it in her to be reassuring.

The fire lit up the area, even where they were parked, brighter then the moon had been all night. Santana could see the others, parked around them, staring at the burning town silently the same as Tina and she were doing.

They all watched the town burn, the pelting rain and wind doing nothing to damper the flames as they consumed the town.

Santana told herself that the tears in her eyes were from the smoke. She wasn't crying. She _wasn't._

* * *

_Earlier_

Quinn woke up slowly, blinking and confused. It took her a few moments to remember where she was. She had been so sleepy, she had fallen asleep in her clothes, not bothering to do much more then blow out the candles and curl up under her blankets.

She sat up, the moon sending slivers of dim light through the front windows. The rain pelted against them, the wind doing its part to beat heavily against the building.

She wondered why she had woken up. She sat up, lighting the candles on the overturned trashcan serving as her night stand.

The candles sent out warm light, and she felt a little comforted.

She groped for her now clean glasses, put them on, then stood up, wobbly, and limped to the bathroom to pee with only a small amount of pain from her ankle. Of course, given the rest of her, the pain from her ankle wasn't even able to compare. Once she was done, and her hands were dried she drank a full bottle of water, then refilled it again and putting it back into her sad food storage tote.

The air felt electric, like all it needed was that one thing to set it off.

Quinn suddenly realized what it was that had woke her up.

The car alarm was off, finally.

Biting her lip, she limped to the window and peaked out.

Between the lightening, and the moon, she could see the zombies that had formally been gathered around the car had spread out, milling around aimlessly without a purpose.

There were so many.

She cursed herself. She should have, no matter how exhausted she was, taken further advantage of them being distracted and searched the rest of the town.

She could probably get out the back door, but now it was going to be a hundred times harder to find what she needed.

She sighed. It wasn't something she needed to worry about now, anyway. It was the middle of the night, she'd go back to bed, and maybe tomorrow would offer up some ideas.

Shivering, she turned from the window, giving the zombies outside one last final look when she stopped.

She hadn't noticed it before, but the zombies had started meandering in one direction. The lightening had covered it up, but there it was, clear as day.

Headlights.

They were parked in front of the town's small pharmacy, and Quinn felt a deep fear right into her bones.

What if that was the three guards, back to finish Quinn off? And hell, since they were in town anyway, why not get what they could from the pharmacy before someone else came along and did so?

Quinn fell backwards away from the window.

What if somehow they could see Quinn's candles, even as low to the ground, and as dim as they were? Even with the windows mostly covered with blinds, there was a chance.

She crawled forward, desperate to put the candles out. She mindlessly grabbed her crutch along the way.

Was that a noise from the first floor? She jerked around to look fearfully at the only exit she had from the second floor, unless she wanted to try to get off the roof, turning the crutch with her, where it hit something that jolted her.

A couple of panicked heart beats later she decided it must have been the wind or something.

Taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself, she turned back.

She must have hit her nightstand, she realized dully. The crutch knocked over the can, tossing the candles. One had fallen into the pile of used tissues and other trash that had filled the can.

The fire blazed merrily.

All she could think was that it was going to draw the attention of the guards, and panic took hold. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but stare at the attention getting flames, losing herself for a few moments in the warmth and light and fear.

By the time, seconds that felt like years later, she had regained herself, the fire had spread to her bedding.

The smoke visible, and she realized she wouldn't be able to put this out. She didn't have enough water, couldn't remember where the fire extinguisher she swore she had saw earlier was. She had to get out, and go hide.

Shakily, she used the crutch to stand up. She shoved her jacket and hoodie onto the top of the tote bag, then slung on her backpack and the tote bag.

The smoke filled the room, and the panic that was cursing through her intensified. She grabbed her boots, dropping her crutch to do so, and pulled them on roughly, sending shattering pain through her ankle as she forced herself towards the exit.

She was down the stairs, through the 'Employees Only' door when she realized she had left her crutch up there. She'd have to find another, by now the thick black smoke was trailed after her. For a second, it looked like a hand reaching for her, promising warmth and light, but only wanting to feed off her.

It took her a few precious seconds to unlock the back door of the thrift store with her cold fingers. When the door was unlocked, she flung it open, and uncaring about whatever could be waiting for her, she practically threw herself outside.

Coughing in the fresh air, she forced herself forward.

By now, the entire second floor was in flames.

A part of Quinn wondered if the weather would make a difference, or if it was going to burn the building down. Buildings, she realized, since the café shared a wall with it, and the library shared a wall with that. And there was the propane tank behind the cafe to think about too.

The rest of Quinn was focused on getting as far away from the burning building, and the headlights, as possible.

She forced herself to run, ignoring the pain, the aches, the cold, the rain, the wind, and how weak she still was from her time getting to town.

She finally let herself slow down, catch her breath, and pull on her hoodie and jacket over her smoky soaked clothes when she was past the last house that could be called 'in town', and there was nothing but open road and woods. She had gone the opposite direction out of town, a part of her reasoning that the guards would go back to the cabin, so she'd go the other way.

Her ankle was sending sharp waves of pain through her, hurting even worse than it had after the first long hike she had taken after it was sprained, and every cut, scrape and bruise hurt, with her facial wound throbbing. The rain and wind conspired to pelt her with stinging rain. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, taking deep breaths and gulping air as fast as she could. And no wonder since she had ran, really ran for her life for nearly ten minutes straight.

She'd never see her friends, her _daughter_, again. They'd get to town weeks from now to find it a burnt out husk.

The moon, even though the weather was so nasty, managed to light her way enough that she didn't bother to bring out her flashlight.

She trudged on for what felt like eternity, stopping only a few times to take sips of her water and chug one of the root beers for some energy. She didn't even risk stopping long enough to find a stick to use as a crutch, and her ankle was sending waves of pain throughout her, managing to out pain everything else.

She knew she needed to stop soon, find someplace to get some rest and warm up. She was realizing, dimly, that she had left her sleeping bag when she saw the headlights coming towards her.

Shivering, she stood there in the middle of the road, fear freezing her in place.

She had came to enough to dart to the side of the road as the first car stopped, the other's behind it stopping as well.

She heard voices, but she couldn't make out the words as she tripped over something on the side of the road, sending her down with a noise loud enough to wake the dead.

"Over there." Words she couldn't make out, then, "We're stopped already. I don't give a damn. Zombies don't just run away from you like that."

Quinn felt the panic edge through her, igniting her to her very core. She struggled to find a rock or a stick or something to protect herself with while she tried to get up. There wasn't anything, and the old tire she had tripped over would be useless.

She tried to stand up, but her ankle had enough and refused to hold her weight. Holding back a cry as she heard steps coming towards her, she tried again anyway, using just her good leg.

Whoever it was, was so close to her Quinn knew she was spotted. She turned towards them, blinking in the bright lights of the headlights.

A string of Spanish, then with a sob, she heard a questioning "Quinn?" already raising her bat.

Quinn was shocked, for a moment, she managed to say, "Santana?" before Santana came closer, peering at her and putting the bat down to her side. Santana looked shocked as well, but that quickly morphed into a tired smile as she held out a hand to help Quinn up.

Once Quinn was standing up, and leaning against Santana for support, the bat rough between them, they made their way to the cars, going slowly enough that Quinn ached to just run for it, even just getting out of the rain and wind at this point would be heaven.

Santana was quiet, and Quinn knew that soon there'd be time for questions and answers for both of them, but for now they were together, despite the odds, and that was enough.

* * *

**A/N:** Just a few words on Finn/Rachel….I knew immediately that killing off Finn wasn't going to work. Despite it being what a lot of readers wanted. Like, a _lot_.

Rachel would be in mourning for him, and it would have taken her a long time to get over his death.

By ending their relationship with Rachel choosing going with everyone else over staying with Finn, Rachel will mourn the _relationship,_ and that won't take very long at all, given how many times her and Finn have gotten together and broke up, and given his whole "I'll be just as happy with someone else as with you but I'll wait a little while" spiel.

Things between Quinn and Rachel are going to move…slowly but surely forward now.

Moving on... I know a lot of you wanted Frannie/her group to die, or them to be forced to leave the cabin.

The cabin was never going to be Quinn &amp; Co's permanent home, which is why I decided to make it absolutely perfect, with wells, great location, solar power, 25 acres, a fish pond and so on.

The characters will be well aware of what they've lost by leaving the cabin.

Will Quinn just straight up go to the Cabin, murder Frannie and anyone who so much as looked wronged her and her friends?

No.

Yeah, it sucks, and it's not fair that Frannie and her people are getting off, relatively easily. But life _isn't_ fair, sometimes the bad guys win, and sometimes the good guys have to settle for what they can get.


	18. 9 Crimes

The pain of losing her fathers was always there. Nothing so far had overshadowed her loss. If anything came close, it was the knowledge that no matter how much she had practiced, sacrificing hours and hours that she could have used socializing with her peers, or gaining other skills, that no matter how absolutely amazing she was, or her belief in her dreams, Broadway was lost forever now.

She had hurt, yes, at the news of Shelby's death. It was a selfish hurt. A very small part of her had wondered if, with the death of her dads, Shelby would come to her, and be the mother Rachel had wanted.

Shelby's death had made it an absolute fact that she would never be the mother Rachel had desired of her. And that's why Rachel had hurt when she learned of Shelby's death. She had mourned the loss of a life, yes, but mostly -selfishly, she had mourned for the loss of the mother she could have had, if Shelby had been so inclined.

Rachel had nightmares, although they'd eased up somewhat. She supposed they all did, if no one really spoke about them.

She hadn't lied when she told Quinn that compared to the loss of her father's, the loss of Shelby was insignificant, because it _was_.

She had been a stupid, foolish child, who wasn't content with having two, amazing loving parents and had wanted a third just because she was so spoiled she couldn't see how lucky she was to have what she had. She hadn't even _realized_ what she had until they were gone, and even then not until she had learned Shelby was gone as well.

Mack's death had hit her hard, even harder then Shelby's death, even if she hadn't known the other girl for very long. The fact that despite their shaky start at school, Mack's acceptance of her and their friendship had been like a balm to the soul.

Quinn's exile had been nearly as bad as Mack's death, once she had found Quinn's bloody duffle bag and learned they hadn't given Quinn a weapon. She hadn't expected to see Quinn again.

So watching Santana help a limping Quinn, both soaked to the bone and fighting the wind, to the SUV in front of her had been like what she had always imagined receiving a standing ovation on her first starring role on Broadway would have been.

That had been a few hours ago, and now the clock on the dashboard said it was 3:41. Tiredness was starting to give her a headache, and she couldn't stop herself from being envious of Brittany, who had fallen asleep next to her in the passenger seat.

It took her a few moments to realize Tina had turned off the main road they had been driving along, such was her sheer focus on the tail lights in front of her. As far as she knew, that was not a part of the plan.

After more time, Tina turned again, this time at the start of a dirt road blocked by a heavy looking yellow gate. The other girl quickly jumped out of the SUV, and tugged the gate open, using some branches to keep it open, before resuming her place in the driver's seat.

As Rachel followed behind her, she wondered what, exactly Tina was doing. Santana had made it pretty clear they weren't going to stop till dawn, at the earliest, and even that would be quick enough to just switch drivers.

Finally in a clearing that was surrounded by woods, Tina parked the car and got out, then looked expectantly towards the others.

Rachel parked next to Quinn's SUV, took a deep breath, then stepped out of Kurt's SUV. The clearing they were in was a mixture of mud , and over grown grass. A few stumps were dotted here and there at the edges. It was obvious, given the amount of grass, that it was unlikely it had been used recently.

The mud stuck to her boots as she walked towards Tina. The rain and wind had not lessoned any, and going from the warmth of the SUV to the harsh outside had been bone chilling. She was shivering so hard her teeth were chattering by the time she stood next to Tina, who was shivering too. Sam and Blaine came up to them quickly, and Tina nodded towards Mack's van.

Sam opened the back, and one by one they all clambered inside. There was enough room in the van; barely, for them all to sit down. If it was just Rachel, she thought wishfully, there'd be enough room for her to lay down.

Rachel had barely sat down before, her stomach a bundle of nerves, she said, "Tina surely it is too soon to be stopping, it is quite likely they are searching for us."

Tina shook her head, flinging tiny water drops around, and said, "Maybe. But Santana's arm needed to be sewn up an hour ago. And I don't know about you guys, but I'm sleepy."

"I think we'll be okay, " Sam said, "I told Finn we were heading to northern New York, and maybe checking out the Canadian border, but told him to tell them we were heading to Florida."

"So even if he decides to tell them the truth, what he thinks is the truth, we'll be alright," Blaine said, and gave Sam a tired smile, "Good thinking."

Sam nodded, and leaned back against the van wall.

Rachel felt a flash of guilt. She hadn't even thought of Finn, at all, since she had first saw Santana helping Quinn to her vehicle. She had been worried about him, what the group's reaction would be knowing Finn had allowed them to escape.

She thought back to Finn's comment, him saying he'd wait, but not forever because he'd be just as happy with someone else, and a fresh wave of hurt went through her.

This time, she knew, there'd be no reconciliation with Finn. They were well and truly done now, and it was unlikely she would ever see him again. She was truly alone now.

No...she looked around at the three other faces in the van with her. She wasn't alone at all. They were in this together now, all of them. And of course there was Dahlia. And she might even be pregnant; but likely not. But still, perhaps.

Finn had been the first -the _only_ boy, to pay any real attention to her. To love her. Jesse had only been doing so for Shelby, and Puck only because she was a Jewish girl, and very convenient. And Jacob Ben Israel didn't count.

The fact that he could dismiss what they had so easily…it hurt. But really, she wasn't that surprised.

She took a deep breath, willing the tiredness and the hurt away, and said, "If we are intending to stay the rest of the night here, we should reconfigure the vehicles so there's an area in the middle that we can ensure will be mostly safe."

Tina nodded, said, "We've got a few tents. We'll set them up in the middle, take care of Santana's arm, and get some rest. We can get started early enough tomorrow, make up for lost time. "

"I'll take first watch," Blaine offered, running a hand through his hair self consciously. She knew that he had run out of hair gel the day before they'd left, that he felt silly without it, but also felt silly wanting it when there was more important things to think about.

They sat in silence, the only sound was the wind and rain battering the van. Rachel wanted to ask if any of them knew where they were going; obviously they were not going to either Florida or New York.

Finally, Rachel said, "Perhaps we should close the gate we went through, in case there are zombies are following us from the road?"

"I'll take the truck, and go close it," Sam said.

"We can start waking up everyone to assist in putting up the tents, help we will likely need given the weather. We should let Terri sleep, however," Rachel offered.

"I think Quinn should rest too, she doesn't look good…I think she'll need stitches too, but not as badly as Santana does right now," Tina said, frowning.

Rachel sat up straighter, and looked at Tina intently, "She requires stitches?"

"She…they shot at her, grazed her face," Tina motioned from her temple and angled down to her chin. Rachel gasped, horrified.

"Are we sure they won't find us? Maybe we should keep going like Santana wanted," Blaine said, clearly worried.

"I'm telling you, I told Finn New York and Florida. We're almost at the Indiana border, I think, " Sam said, "Even if he finds out about Quinn's sister's kids, and decides to tell the truth, we should be fine. " Sam sounded tense when he speaks about Frannie's children, and Rachel is quite sure that he is as displeased about Brittany's choice as she is, not that there was anything any of them can do about it now.

"Santana's arm needs to be stitched up, it should have been done before we left," Tina stated, "And I..I need some sleep," she finished tiredly, shaking her head.

"Very well. Tina and I will tend to Santana, Blaine please wake up Kurt and Brittany, then move the vehicles while Sam closes the gate," Rachel said, "It will likely, given the weather, take all of us to set up the tents," and inched towards the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and stepped out, the others following behind her.

Both of them were silent as they made their way to Quinn's SUV, Tina went to the back to get the medical things while Rachel had to get Santana to Mack's van.

Shivering again, Rachel opened the passenger door, and looked at Santana. The dark haired girl was frowning, even in her sleep, and looked pale to Rachel.

"Santana," Rachel said, and gently poked Santana's good shoulder a few times, until Santana jerked away, and looked at Rachel wild eyed.

"Wha…what happened? Did they catch up to us?" Santana mumbled, and started struggling out of her seat belt, frantically.

"Shhhh, no, we're okay Santana. Tina says your arm needs to be stitched up, _now._ We're parked on an old logging clearing, it's been a few hours," Rachel said, reaching over and unbuckling Santana's belt, feeling as though she was, at the least, risking that hand to do so.

Santana stared at Rachel incredulously, then snarled, "My arm's fine. Jesus Berry, don't you two understand that not only did we escape with supplies, we also have Frannie's youngest. You think she's not going to cry and demand they send out search parties all over?"

"You have Abby and Chris? Santana why would you take Frannie's kids?" Quinn's tired, and slightly hoarse voice said from the back.

Rachel turned, and looked, her eyes looking over the sleeping forms of the children, confused about why she wasn't seeing Quinn, until Quinn sat up from where she had been curled up in the cargo area. In the dim light of the dome she looked like she had a very hard last few days indeed.

Rachel knew that when the wound on Quinn's face healed…Quinn would still be an absolutely pretty girl, but now she'd have something that would, no doubt, be a conversation starter, and give her some character that the pink hair never could hope to have given. Rachel also knew that if _she_ had a wound such as Quinn's, the best she could hope for was that it would detract attention from her nose.

Rachel looked questioningly at Santana, who grit her teeth and shook her head. Santana hadn't told her much of anything, then.

"Let's get you both to Mack's van, we can talk there," Rachel said gently, and looked pointedly at the children sleeping in the back seat. Quinn nodded, and reached out, and gently caressed Beth's face, before saying quietly, "Alright. It'd be nice to see Mack anyway."

Rachel felt tears well up in her eyes. She shot a glare at Santana, who wouldn't or perhaps, _couldn't,_ meet her eyes. Leaving Santana to get herself out of the passenger seat, Rachel blinked back tears as she went and stood next to Tina, who was laden down with the large tote box that consisted of all their medical supplies. There was a bottle of whiskey on top, and judging by the way the rest of the things in the back were half hazardly shoved around, Tina had to have had to dig around for it.

Rachel reached in and nudged things around, then helped a wincing Quinn out of the back. She took the blonde girl's left side, and Santana silently took the other on the Latina's good side. Kurt, wide eyed and sleepy, gave them a tired nod when he passed by them to Quinn's SUV.

Rachel was the one to open the van's doors, shoving things aside to give Tina a little more room to work with. She briefly wondered what Mack had been hoarding in her van, but dismissed it as important at the moment.

The blonde girl had looked at the driver's seat, obviously expecting Mack to be there, but with a frown turned back to the three of them. Telling herself she wasn't avoiding telling Quinn what had happened, she was simply focusing on the more important matter at the moment, Santana's arm, Rachel directed Quinn to sit in a corner on one of the tote boxes, and handed her the flashlight, reasoning that it was likely Tina would need her to do more then that.

Once they were in the best position they could be in, Quinn holding the flashlight, Tina twisted the lid off the bottle of whiskey, handed it to Santana. Santana took it with a frown.

"Drink it, to here," Tina said, pointing to a spot on the bottle above the label. At Santana's look, Tina sighed and added, "We don't really have much anesthetic? Just a couple of numbing gel tubes. I'm going to use some, but it's still going to hurt. A lot."

Santana stared at the bottle with a frown, and Quinn looked again at the driver's seat, obviously confused about where Mack was.

Rachel swallowed, before she knew what she was doing, she said, "Tina, how exactly do you know these things?"

Tina looked at Rachel, then darted a quick glance at Quinn, then back to Rachel. She had heard Quinn say she wanted to see Mack too. She licked her lips, then quietly said, "My mom is -_was_ a doctor. She taught me some things, and we even took some classes together. Things like 'field emergency medicine'. Part of it was the typical 'we really want you to be a doctor when you grow up' stuff, part of it was mother/daughter bonding, and part of it was giving me a little more self confidence."

"That was," Rachel started to say.

"Freakin' weird, but thank fuck your mom's idea of mother/daughter bonding including things like stitching wounds . What'd you do with your dad, nature walks? And now you can identify all sorts of edible plants, and my, won't _that_ come in _handy_, since we've got two more mouths to feed," Santana said snidely, interrupting Rachel.

Tina smiled sadly, "Santana _drink it_. And no, Dad was into trains. We had a great model train set up in the basement. Dad was really into the history, but mostly I liked photographing them. We were talking about getting an old boxcar and restoring it for a last project together next summer, you know, one last hurrah before I left for college..."

"We're going to need to cut Santana's shirt off, I think," Rachel said. Santana glared at her, then at the bottle she was holding. Gritting her teeth, she drank a gulp of it. Her eyes were watering when she was done, and Rachel could tell she was trying not to cough.

"If you wanted to see my boobs, Hobbit, all you had to do was ask Brittany if it was okay. I liked this t-shirt too," Santana grumbled as Rachel started cutting it off with the knife Tina handed her, being very very careful not to cut Santana, and ignoring her name calling.

"I'm afraid it is unsalvageable, otherwise I would just remove the sleeves," Rachel said, "Kurt will repair your jacket, it will be almost as good as new when he is done."

When Rachel was finished, she pulled away from Santana. Santana took another pull off the whiskey, grimacing.

"_Mack's_ jacket, Berry. Just like those are her boots," Santana gestured towards Rachel's feet with the bottle, then took another drink. By now she was past where Tina had indicated to drink from. "Fucking Jacob Ben Israel anyway. He's lucky I didn't do worse to him."

Rachel gently tugged the bottle away from Santana, who didn't protest.

"…Mack's jacket. Her boots? Why are Frannie's kids with you? What _happened?_ " Quinn asked, staring at each of them, questioning, a pleading look on her face.

The silence that answered her sat heavily between them, thick with guilt for not telling her immediately.

Tina busied herself with cleaning her hands with alcohol wipes, and prepping for stitching Santana's arm. Santana was teary eyed, and stared out the windshield, not looking at Quinn.

Rachel looked at the bottle in her hand. She took a deep breath, then took a gulp. The whiskey went down like fire, burning through her like the guilt for not wanting to be the one to tell Quinn Mack was dead burned. Her eyes watered for a second, and a loose warmth went through her body.

She set the bottle down, took a deep breath, looked Quinn in the eyes, and said, "Your sister took Beth as soon as you were taken away. As you know, The Mack had made it quite clear that she was not happy at the cabin. She intended on getting you, and Beth, and escaping, to meet with the rest of us later. She was caught…your sister," Rachel sighed, and turned away from Quinn, "The Mack is dead."

"Frannie killed her -shot her right through the heart. Told everyone Mack killed herself after she was caught trying to break you out. Bitch enjoyed doing it, " Santana said, angrily wiping away tears, "Brittany…I don't know how the hell she did it, but she managed to get Beth, Abby and Chris without getting caught. She said it was so you'd get a win against your sister," Santana snorted, "Brittany didn't think that it would probably make them look harder for us. Or that we now had two more tiny people to keep safe and fed."

"Mack's dead?" Quinn whispered, dropping the flashlight.

It rolled onto the ground, and stopped when it bumped against Rachel, it's beam shining towards the driver seat.

With a sob, Quinn flung open the van door, and went outside. Rachel watched with worried eyes as the blonde girl ran past the squared vehicles, and towards the woods surrounding their clearing. She had seen how badly Quinn was limping, and wondered how she managed to find the energy to push past the pain she must be in to run away from them.

Santana was crying, holding her face with hands, turned away from the other two.

Tina looked down, darted a glance at Santana, then quietly said, "Go find her Rachel, who knows what's out there. I can get Brittany or someone else to hold the flashlight."

Her heart pounding so loud she didn't know how Tina and Santana weren't hearing it, Rachel murmured, "Very well." She stepped outside the van, and headed back to Kurt's SUV. There, she grabbed another flashlight, and then, hesitating, she grabbed her rifle, putting it on carefully. She had taken the sling off of another weapon they had grabbed, reasoning that it would make sense for her to have it in her rifle instead.

Turning on the flashlight, she headed into the direction Quinn went.

It didn't take her long to find the other girl leaning against a tree and sobbing.

Rain pelted them both, the storm was still going strong. Rachel shivered, realizing she had neglected to bring a tarp or anything to protect them from the rain. She sighed softly, then huddled closer to Quinn, the tree doing little to protect them from the rain, but it was blocking the wind a bit. She would wait until Quinn was ready to speak, or head back to the vehicles, even if it was cold and wet out here. She could just make them out through the trees, and she was grateful that Quinn hadn't gone further, as getting lost out here was a risk. Then again, perhaps, Rachel realized, Quinn hadn't been able to go further due to her ankle and whatever was wrong with it.

Finally, after several long minutes, Quinn stopped crying. The blonde girl merely huddled towards Rachel, but didn't say until for several even longer minutes later.

"What are you doing out here Rachel, it's too cold for you," Quinn muttered angrily.

"I am waiting on you. It is dangerous to be by yourself, and you will likely need assistance to return to the vehicles," Rachel replied. She tried to keep her voice even, and not let on how much she was shivering.

"I deserve how badly it's going to hurt to go back," Quinn said, not looking at Rachel. "It's my fault Mack's dead. "

Rachel put a tentative hand on Quinn's shoulder, "I believe that all of us, in one way or another, feel at least partly to blame for the Mack's death."

"I killed Shelby, told my sister, and got kicked out Rachel. Mack got caught trying to leave to be with me. How is it _not_ my fault? " Quinn said, sneering at her.

"I believe we have already established that you were not in a clear state of mind when you killed Shelby. No, you should not have told your sister, but it's natural for one to want to unburden one's self to our loved ones. The Mack, I believe, would have decided to leave at some point _anyway_. As none of us are fortune tellers, it is difficult to know whether she would have gotten caught, or that Frannie and the other's reactions would have been so extreme," Rachel replied. She felt a tiny bit of the weight lift off of her shoulders, weight that she had since Mack had died. She would always wonder 'what if', likely they all would. " I believe Frannie and the others grossly misinterpreted the President's speech."

Quinn shook her head, "I know how Frannie is. I thought…I don't know. I thought she was okay. But I was the one that invited her to join us, even if I thought we were going to be in town and not the cabin. That's on me, Rachel."

"I…as I said, Quinn, Mack would have likely left anyway. There's no telling what she would have encountered outside the fence, if she would have not become overwhelmed by zombies or who knows," Rachel said, huddling closer to Quinn. She stifled a yawn, then, head fuzzy from the whiskey, said, "What do you mean you know how Frannie is?"

Quinn swallowed heavily, then looked down at the ground, "Frannie…once she got in trouble for stabbing another kid at school with a fork when she was maybe...ten, I think. The teacher called our parents in because Frannie just said she…felt like it? They figured she was fine, it was just for attention or whatever…then I got a puppy for my 5th birthday. I…I had always trailed after Frannie, you know? I loved her more then anyone, but then I got that puppy, and I guess she got jealous. She.." Quinn wiped away tears, wincing when she accidentally brushed against her facial injury, "Anyway, my parents put her in therapy and on medication. And everything was fine, I guess. I just kinda...blocked what she did eventually. I still adored her, and everything was alright. We never did get another pet, and mom had started drinking a lot by the time I turned 12, so maybe there was more I didn't know about. I always assumed it was because my dad cheated a lot. I forgot a lot, and eventually what I did remember turned hazy? I wasn't sure if it all was a dream or I was confusing real life with a movie or something. No one would talk about it, ever so it was hard to know," Quinn shrugged, running a hand through her wet hair tiredly.

"Perhaps your sister _was_ fine when you invited her to join us, Quinn. Perhaps she was still taking the medication you remember her starting, or a different one, but she ran out? " Rachel said, her mind slightly more alert and racing. If what Quinn was suggesting, that her sister had possibly had some sort of personality disorder, or even been a sociopath, that would explain quite a bit about Frannie Harris née Fabray, "I'm afraid I do not know much of anything about psychology. We will never know for sure what is wrong with her. It is also possible the stress of living in a world with zombies, and whatever happened to them while they were on the road, made parts of her snap. And she did not get better. But maybe it isn't such a bad thing Brittany took her youngest, at the least she did not seem to care for Abigail much."

Quinn shrugged again, "Maybe."

The silence sat between them for a few minutes, before Rachel, the whiskey making her brave, and the cold making her a little desperate, wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist and pulled her closer.

Quinn tensed up, "Rachel, what are you doing."

"I am cold, Quinn. And Finn did say I was a clingy drunk," Rachel laid her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"I saw how much you drank Rachel. Even with how small you are, unless you were sneaking sips while we were driving, you aren't drunk," Quinn said, her body still tense, "If you want to cuddle, go get Finn. He's your boyfriend…_fiance_, remember?"

"Did Santana tell you nothing at all? Finn told me to choose, stay with him there, or leave with the group. I picked the group," Rachel sighed, "He also told me he'd be just as happy with someone else as with me. Not exactly a romantic, is he? So we are broken up, and it is unlikely we shall ever see each other again. At this point I hope so, as if we do it will mean they have found us."

"Rachel…" Quinn said, "What about the baby? Yours and Finn's? I can't believe you decided to leave...". She tentatively put a hand on Rachel's back.

Rachel wondered how Quinn was feeling, it could not be easy to admit such feelings, and act on them for the blonde girl. "I highly doubt I am pregnant, Quinn. I will know for sure in roughly two more days. I told you that if Finn and I were no longer in a relationship, I would consider being in one with you. I have considered it, and I want to. Unless your feelings have changed about me. I consider that highly unlikely, given the length you-"

Quinn interrupted her, kissing her gently for a moment, then pulled away from her, wrapping both arms around her in a hug, just holding her for a moment.

She pulled away, and looked at Rachel seriously, "No, they haven't changed. But Rachel, you haven't even been broken up with Finn for a day. I know this is a dangerous world we're living in, I know that tomorrow could be our last day…but I promise you, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you and I…all of us, _live_. I'm not a rebound relationship, okay? You need more time to get over Finn. I need time to…tell Santana for one. To tell _everyone_. And I want us to be friends for a while. I'm just not ready to dive headfirst into anything yet."

Rachel started to say, "I assure you Quinn, that I.." but trailed off. She had not thought about it. She had felt elation when she saw Quinn was alive, but she had not even thought about being in a relationship with her now that Finn was no longer in the picture, or about what a relationship would mean for both of them.

She was being selfish, all she had thought about was the fact that she was _alone_, now, and possibly pregnant. Mack was dead, Finn was no longer her's, and she was _alone._

The whiskey had made her brave, and_ foolish._

"I apologize, I did not think this as clearly through as I should have," Rachel said, shamefaced. She swallowed heavily, guilt creeping through her.

Finn was right, she was selfish and thought everything should be about her.

"It's alright Rachel. Some more time, okay? Let's head back, Tina wanted to look at my face," Quinn said, huddling tentatively against Rachel, then giving a disguised wave towards her injury.

"You were almost too pretty before, it will give you character when it is healed, Quinn. You'll have an air of mystery around you no doubt," Rachel said before she could stop herself.

She swore off of whiskey forever, as Quinn raised an eyebrow at her, "That's sweet of you to say Rachel, but we both know this is going to scar badly, and I'm going to be hideous. "

"I am quite serious Quinn," Rachel insisted, as she handed the flashlight to Quinn, and once more resumed the position at the other girl's left side, helping her limp to the others.

"Sure Rachel, " Quinn murmured, giving Rachel a tight smile.

The rain fought against them as they slowly made their way back to the others. When they arrived, Rachel helped Quinn to the van where a even more tired looking Tina waited.

Sam looked relieved to see Rachel, and after she set her rifle and flashlight back in Kurt's SUV (thankful that the rifle had long ago been weather proofed as much as it could, and she ensured it was well oiled) she went to help him and the others with the tents.

It took them two hours to both set up a single tent, (they decided that was enough, too tired by the time they had it up and secure to try to fight the weather and set up more) and get everyone except Blaine (who was taking first watch, for zombies, other people, and in case one of the kids or Terri needed anything) in it with their bedding. Santana and Quinn took watch while the tent was set up, once Tina was done with Quinn, since Tina didn't want either of trying to help and possibly jarring their stitches. The tent was big enough to just barely hold all of them; it was a quick decision to just leave the sleeping children and Terri in the cars, not wanting to risk waking the kids up.

It was damp, and crowded, and uncomfortable, but it was out of the rain and the vehicles blocked a lot of the wind.

Rachel was asleep in moments, snuggled in-between Brittany and Kurt.

* * *

**A/N:** Just to answer a few questions about last chapter from Guest reviewers:

The car parked at the pharmacy wasn't Santana &amp; Co, or any of Frannie's people. It was just another group of survivors that were also in town and must have been pretty desperate indeed to risk the pharmacy in the middle of the night, even with that car alarm blaring.

Frannie has three children, Jeremy who is 4, Abigail "Abby" who is 26 months, Christopher who is 13 months. Plus she's pregnant. Brittany stole Abby and Chris.


	19. Hells Bells

_Rachel beamed out to the crowd, and held the Tony statue reverently. It was heavier then she thought it would be. She set it on the podium, then smoothed her silk gown down. She was glad, suddenly, that she had let her Papa talk her into wearing the red one tonight._

_She took a deep breath, and smiled out to the crowd again, "I'm sorry, I am a bit nervous. I had not expected to win tonight, so I did not plan a speech. Ask anyone, and you will find that my not planning ahead like this clearly showed how much of a surprise it was for me to win!" _

_Smattering of laugher went through the crowd, and she continued, "First I would like to thank my Dads. Without them, I'd never had made it this far. They gave me so much, so much love and so many opportunities to learn and hone my singing, dancing, and acting. Thank you both so so much. Also thank you for watching Dahlia tonight. I would also like to thank the writers and producers and the rest of the cast and everyone else who works on the show…I, I am just still so surprised I'm sorry," More laughing. While the crowd quieted down, she zeroed in on Quinn. The blonde looked radiant in a skillfully made red gown, a few shades darker then Rachel's, and she was laughing and crying as she watched Rachel accepting the award, "I'd also like to thank Kurt, Blaine, Santana, Sam, Tina, Brittany and I'm sure there's more but I am still rather in shock. You guys are all amazing friends…Finally I'd like to thank my wife, Quinn. She's stuck with me through thick and thin, through the rejections and sleepless nights with our daughter, Dahlia. I love you, I love you both, and without you two this wouldn't have mattered at all. Without you two, I'm nothing. "_

_She took a deep breath, picked up the statue, and beamed happily out at the crowd. This was one of the happiest days of her life. Definitely in the top ten._

_She dropped her statue._

_Horrified, she turned away from the crowd. The press was going to eat this up, she knew, it would forever tarnish her first Tony win. Setting her shoulders back, she put a smile on her face, and turned around, facing the crowd again._

_They were fighting each other._

_Dimly, she realized that no, half of the crowd were defending themselves against the other half._

_Picking up her skirt in one hand, she hefted the statue in the other and ran towards where Quinn was fighting off an actor that Rachel knew she knew, she just couldn't remember his name._

_Rachel hefted the statue on his head, making him drop to the ground. She grabbed Quinn's hand, and together they ran for the exit._

_Time seemed to slow, and the ground felt like quick sand, but finally, amazingly, they were outside the building and next to the sporty bright, almost blinding white 2018 hybrid Quinn had claimed was a deserved reward for Rachel, and thus they'd take it to attend the Tony Awards instead of a limo. It looked a lot like the 2011 hybrid, Rachel realized as they stood there._

_As Quinn unlocked the doors, Rachel realized something, "I left my Tony."_

_Breathing heavy, Quinn said, "Go back and get it. You worked hard for it Rachel, you deserve it."_

_"No, Quinn I feel as though perhaps we should go straight to my father's house and get Dahlia. Perhaps call our friends, as well. What happened in there... "_

_"Don't be silly Rachel, go get it. It's yours," Quinn dropped her purse and the keys in the driver seat, and gently pushed Rachel back towards the building._

_Somehow, the building was on fire. The smoke filled her lungs, and she coughed and coughed, blinking back smoky tears. Once she caught her breath, she shook her head, turning back to Quinn as she did so, "No, it's too dangerous. It's just a statue, Quinn. I will still have my accomplishments without it."_

_"I don't understand you Rachel, " Quinn said harshly, "After your hard work. All that your dad's sacrificed…do you think singing, dance, and acting lessons are cheap? After all __**we've**__ sacrificed…Dahlia likes the nanny more than both of us, you know. All that, and you're just going to leave the statue in there?"_

_"Quinn, I have won. I am quite sure that once whatever happened in there is cleaned up, once things go back to normal, I will be able to retrieve the statue. Or they will give me another. Broadway will always be there. Now please, let us go to my father's house, I need to see them, to ensure they are okay, Dahlia too of course," Rachel pleaded, guilt riding her. Quinn was right, they had all sacrificed so much for her Broadway career._

_Quinn turned away from her, "Don't you see Rachel? Things aren't ever going to go back to normal," she turned back towards Rachel, and handed her a cell phone, "Santana wants to talk to you. "_

_"Oh, very well. But then we leave, alright? I must see my father's," Rachel put the phone up to her ear, and all that greeting her was Santana cursing, loudly, in Spanish._

_"Santana? I will not be spoken to like this, I shall hang up if you do not control yourself," Rachel said, shocked Santana could speak like that to her, without Quinn riding interference between them as she had always done._

_Santana continued cursing in Spanish louder now, then said, "I can't believe you Brittany! Brittany. Brittany. Brittany. Brittany. Brittany. Brittany. Brittany. Brittany."_

"Brittany, the kids are one thing. I can kinda get your reasons for them, I can. But this, really?" Santana's voice came through the tent.

"San, it wasn't _my_ idea. Lord Tubbington thinks it'd be good for the kids, for all of us. He and I will train them, everything will be okay," Brittany's clear voice came through.

It took a few moments for Rachel to realize she had been dreaming. Rachel yawned, and sat up, shoving her sleeping bag away. Blinking away sleep, she yawned again, and looked around.

It was just her, Blaine and Dahlia in the tent. Dahlia too had apparently been woken up by Santana's cursing, and looked at Rachel in with what Rachel hoped was with adoring eyes, but was more likely her 'I need a diaper change' eyes.

Careful not to jostle Blaine around, Rachel stood up and stepped around him, picking up Dahlia from her car seat and stepping out the tent door.

Outside, it had stopped raining but the wind still made its presence known. She clutched Dahlia to her, and looked at Brittany and Santana.

She was about to ask what they were arguing so loudly about, but it became clear. Three puppies, all different breeds, were frolicking around Lord Tubbington in the grass and mud.

Rachel had knew that quite a few in Frannie's groups had brought dogs with them, and that several of those families all had a litter of puppies. Sam had inquired about getting a puppy for his siblings, (all three of the Evans's children wanting one before all this happened, but their money situation had made it impossible. And of course, it would likely be therapeutic,) but Sam had been unwilling to give up their tiny office turned room for one, which was what all the families had said would be the only way to get one for Sam.

Mack had said they'd be a lot of trouble if they had to leave, anyway.

It looked like Lord Tubbington had stolen a lab mix, a German Sheppard, and a tiny poodle.

"Rachel did we wake you up? Sorry. We were going to let you guys sleep in, you both looked so tired," Brittany smiled at her, and without hesitation Rachel returned it.

"Rachel, please tell Brittany that we're going to have enough trouble without adding a puppy -let alone three, to our problems," Santana said tiredly. She looked less pale then she had last night, Rachel noted.

"I... " Rachel's eyes darted to where the rest of the group were, huddled in or near the back of Mack's Van to get some protection from the wind as they ate their breakfast. Everyone except Beth and Tiffany were looking at those puppies with various degrees of longing. Was it a good idea to keep them? No, Rachel knew that. But they would be good for morale. And if Brittany trained them half as good as she had trained Lord Tubbington, then they could even be useful.

Rachel herself wanted to cuddle one of the puppies, to have that sense of normalcy even if it was just for a few minutes. Her family had a dog, Starla, who had died of old age when Rachel was 12. Her father's and her had loved that dog, and had talked about getting another puppy, but had never decided it was the right time.

"Santana, " Rachel said gently, "Brittany obviously knows how to train an animal well. They will be useful. And certainly good for morale."

"Ugggggh. You know what, I don't care. I'm not cleaning up any poop, and they better not bark and attract zombies," Santana said, gritting her teeth, "Berry, wake up your Hobbit life partner, and get dressed, we need to get on the road soon."

Rachel went to do just that as Brittany started whispering into Santana's ear.

* * *

"Alright," Sam said, and pointed to a spot on the map that was spread out on the hood, "We're here give or take some."

They were huddled under a covered picnic area at a rest stop a few miles near the Ohio Indiana border. They had driven until noon, it raining off and on. They had decided to take advantage of it currently being off to have lunch and give everyone a break to stretch and walk around a little. Well, Tina (who was still driving Quinn's SUV) had decided and led the other cars there. Rachel made a mental note to herself to add walkie talkies to the list of things they needed, as somehow they had neglected to bring any.

The three zombies that had milled around the rest stop had been easily disposed of. No one harbored any thoughts, she was quite sure, that the rest stop would be safe to sleep at, but it was certainly safe enough for the moment.

Santana was still annoyed at everyone, and was surly and snappish. Tina was taking the brunt of it, since the raven haired girl had been constantly checking on her, Quinn, and Kurt (even though Kurt's ear has mostly been skimmed by Jacob's bullet, and really had just needed some Neosporin and a Band-Aid.)

Rachel understood that Santana was still upset about the events of the last few days -month, even, was in pain from her arm, and perhaps even her knee, and likely embarrassed about her crying last night (even though she had no reason to be, tears were nothing to be ashamed about) and Brittany deciding that they needed two extra children and now three puppies had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Which certainly helped her ignore the insults and name calling Santana seemed to throw her way constantly both times they had stopped for a quick restroom break. Thankfully she had seemed to settle down a bit for their lunch break.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Kurt asked, finally voicing what, Rachel was sure, had been on all their minds.

Silence circled around them for a few moments, then Sam shrugged and said, "West I guess."

They briefly talked about trying a base for a few minutes, before dismissing that as too risky. If Rachel was honest with herself, she would much rather go to a base and see how the military was handling things before she jumped to conclusions. Knowing that it was unlikely any of the others would agree with her, she kept silent.

Mack might have agreed, she thought with a little pang of sadness.

Finally, Santana said, "I'd feel a hell of a lot more safer once we're past Indiana, so let's focus on that alright? If we avoid the big cities and Fort Wayne, taking back roads it'll be a five hour drive, tops, to get through. Even assuming everything's fucked, we should, hopefully, be through and in Illinois by the time we stop tonight. We'll keep going if we manage to get through Indiana quickly, but I'm not going to hold my breath. "

"Sounds good to me," Sam shrugged, and everyone else nodded their agreement.

"I would like to remind you all that I almost 35 weeks pregnant, " Terri said, clearly a little high strung, "And there is a baby _smashing_ my _bladder._ I need more bathroom breaks while we're driving. I _know_ it's a hassle. One per hour, at least."

Rachel could see Santana was about to snap something mean to the pregnant woman, when all noise around them seemed to fade away. As a group, they turned and watched as an old looking station wagon turned into the rest stop's road, slowing down when it saw them parked there.

They had seen two other cars today, but neither of them had attempted to stop them or even acknowledge them in anyway, the driver's likely too busy getting wherever they were going to focus on them.

Even though she was reasonably certain that a station wagon as old as this one not one of the vehicles at the cabin, that didn't stop Rachel's heart from starting to beat rapidly in fear. She darted a glance to where the children were sitting on a blanket in the middle of the covered patio, blankets covering them as they ate and played, then back to the station wagon which by now had parked near the exit road.

Rachel felt herself calm down a bit as she realized the two people getting out the car were women. Logically, she knew there was no reason to fear women less than men, and it was perhaps even sexist of her. But she also knew for sure they weren't from the cabin, as there was no way two women would be out alone.

The patio they were under was perhaps ten feet away the cement restrooms, and the pair cautiously went into the women's room, only giving Rachel's group a glance.

The silence between them as they watched the cement bathroom the women had walked into was taught with tension.

Terri sighed, then holding her stomach she started waddling towards the bathrooms.

"Terri, where are you going?" Quinn asked, incredulously.

"What part of there is a baby _smashing_ my _bladder _did you not understand Quinn? You of all people should sympathize with me," Terri picked up one of the baseball bats that was sitting where they had piled their weapons after making sure the area was clear, "I'll take this. I sincerely doubt they're going to shoot me because I have to pee."

"I'll go with you, make sure you-" Blaine offered, but Terri interrupted him.

"No sweetie, I'll go by myself. You are as intimidating as a kitten, but I wouldn't want them to feel threatened, which they might if it's more than me. Besides, it's a ladies room, that'd just be weird." Terri said.

"Damn it Terri," Santana cursed in Spanish for a second, then added, "Fine. Scream if you need us, okay?"

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Terri sniffed, then continued to the bathroom.

Rachel watched with worried trepidation as the pregnant woman walked away from them. She felt like they should have insisted on one of them going with her, but on the other hand, Terri was likely right that a pregnant woman alone would be less threatening.

She took a deep breath, then let it out, before saying, "It is likely that we are worrying for no reason. And perhaps it is best that we learn to deal with others now, when it is only two and not, say, a town full. I wonder if we have anything to trade them, just perhaps for practice as I am not aware of anything we need."

She looked questioningly at Santana, who grit her teeth and said, "Why are you looking at me Berry? You're the one with the lists and shit."

"I was under the impression that you knew what we had in the way of supplies Santana, therefore I have not been keeping track," Rachel said blinking at Santana with a frown.

"I've got a general idea," Santana admitted with a shrug, staring at the bathroom.

Rachel looked pleadingly around at the others, who reacted much in the same way, shrugs, wide eyed shock, or in the case of Brittany, insisting that Lord Tubbington was keeping a list.

"So none of us know exactly what we have?" Rachel clarified, a little horrified, "Meaning that we could, say, run out of diapers or even water tomorrow? Very well. Santana, I must insist that we take additional time here to go through and reorganize the vehicles, so that a list of current supplies can be written. That way we may know what we have on hand and what we are running out of at all times."

Santana scowled, finally looking at Rachel, just to glare at her, "Can't it wait until we stop for the night?"

"We do not know where we will end up tonight, nor how safe it would be to take the time needed," Rachel said patiently, her mind already trying to figure out how what they likely were running low on. Diapers, for sure, with three children wearing them regularly, and a fourth wearing them at night.

"How long do you think it will take Rachel," Quinn asked, her eyes darting between Santana and Rachel.

"It is difficult to tell, but I would assume two hours, at the minimum," Rachel admitted, knowing Santana would not like hearing that.

Just as she expected, Santana burst out with an angry growl, "_Two_ hours?"

"At least," Rachel said firmly.

"Berry," Santana started, before Quinn interrupted her.

"Santana, I think it's a good idea, we need to know what we have and need. And she's right, we don't know where we'll be stopping tonight," Quinn said quietly.

"If that's what _you_ think is best Q, then fine whatever," Santana smirked at Quinn.

Rachel got the distinct feeling she was missing something.

Before she could ask what Santana meant, Sam nodded towards the bathrooms and said, "Hey, Terri's coming back. She's not alone."

As a group, they all turned and looked as Terri came waddling out of the bathroom, the two women following cautiously behind her.

When she got to them, and smiled and said, "This is Matilda and Gloria Welds. They left a base in Georgia a week ago. I told them they could join us."

Upon seeing that no one was particularly happy with that statement, Terri rolled her eyes, and dryly added, "Obviously the rest of you have to okay it too. Give me a little credit, I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think they'd be a good fit."

Matilda and Gloria turned out to be a mother daughter pair. Gloria was, she proudly informed them, almost 14. She talked fast, was excitable, and tall for her age, "I got that from my dad's side of the family, he's in Alaska with my step-mom. My parents got divorced when I was four. Also he's white, in case you couldn't tell," she babbled to them, laughing at the end and gesturing to her mom, then herself with a grin that showed off braces, before her smile faded a little, "I hope they're okay."

Rachel liked her immediately.

Matilda was an owner of a wedding planning business in Georgia. She had a soft Sothern accent that Rachel instantly enjoyed listening too. It was soothing, and carried a no-nonsense motherly tone in it that Rachel found she liked.

"I told them we weren't really heading anywhere but west," Terri said, with a raise of an eyebrow that Rachel assumed to mean she hadn't told them why.

"Why did you leave the base in Georgia," Quinn asked quietly.

"9 million people lived in Georgia. And it seemed like half of them went to Robins like we did. We only did that because it was closest to our town. Realistically, I'm sure most people went to Fort Stewart, but…"

Matilda sighed, "It was very crowded, and this one," she nodded towards Gloria, "Made me watch too many horror movies. All it would take was one person getting in, bit and hiding it and we'd all be in trouble. There just weren't enough airmen to take care of things if that happened. I just couldn't handle it. I kept having nightmares. So I decided we'd leave. Find a small town in some state where the cows outnumber the people, and settle down before winter really hits."

"Then when it's warm again, we're going to drive to Alaska and my dad's house," Gloria added happily.

"I've got plenty of STA-BIL and I don't think it'll be too difficult to find steel drums and the gas to store till spring, it's mostly just a matter of getting it safely, and finding a safe place to wait out winter," Matilda shrugged, and sipped at the cup of black coffee she was drinking. She had offered the coffee to them, to drink while they talked, and everyone had immediately agreed, since somehow they had neglected to bring any coffee.

Rachel had given her cup to Santana and Quinn, as no matter how much she missed coffee, there was no way she could force herself to drink it without a lot of unbleached ethically sourced sugar and soy milk.

Although at this point she would settle for non-dairy creamer and white sugar.

Rachel was confused, and judging by the looked almost everyone else were sporting, she wasn't the only one.

"Gasoline goes bad after about three months to eight months, maybe even a year, it depends on a few things. Diesel is about a year usually. I was going to mention it once we got where ever we're going, so we could switch to diesel vehicles, or start gathering the additives needed to make sure it'll the fuel for our current cars would be okay," Kurt said dryly, making a face at his cup of coffee. He caught Rachel looking at him, and gave her a small smile. He preferred his coffee to be more cream and sugar then coffee too.

"What he?" Matilda asked questioningly.

"Kurt," Terri supplied.

"What Kurt said," Matilda said, "Of course fuel was only one part of the trip up there. We'll need food, too. But I figured I'd think about that after we've got a supply of food for winter settled. With what they told us…"

"What did they tell you? We've been up in the mountains since September. We didn't get any reception up there, the last we heard from President Parr was her State of the Union address then," Sam said, eagerly leaning closer to Matilda.

Matilda snorted, "President Parr. She must be loving all this, she can really push her agenda from her bunker. Honestly, telling people to start having babies, that it's our duty. People are going to have enough problems with Winter without adding pregnancy to it. And she really shouldn't-"

"_Mom_," Gloria said in that tone of voice all teenagers have perfected by age thirteen that managed to convey that their parents were embarrassing.

"Sorry, Glory. President Parr…well, I wouldn't have voted for her," Matilda sighed, "Whatever's making the…zombies, is also messing with weather patterns. Whatever scientists President Parr has with her have predicted that winter is going to hit hard. "

"It was colder in Ohio then it should have been for this time of year," Quinn murmured with a frown.

"Right. Well, it's going to get worse," Matilda nodded.

"Did President Parr's scientists…are they working on cure? Or a vaccine?" Tina inquired hopefully.

"They say they're working on it, but it's all a lot of double talk with no actual substance," Matilda said, making a goofy face at Dahlia who Blaine was holding.

"Mom thinks it's a bunch of hooey. That they're clueless, and are just saying that to keep what's left of the masses pacified," Gloria said, grinning again.

"So we won't hold our breaths, then," Tina sighed.

"Probably a good idea not to count on them, and just be pleasantly surprised if they do find a cure or vaccine," Matilda said.

"So, I was thinking we go with them to whatever cow populated town they decide on," Terri said.

Matilda nodded, "And if you all want to come with us to Alaska when it's warm again, you're welcome to."

Rachel looked towards Santana, who looked at Quinn.

Quinn licked her lips, "I think that's a good idea. Rachel maybe we should start pulling everything out so you can make your lists and we can reorganize our supplies."

"You can add the stuff in our station wagon, we can pool our supplies. It's not much, I was thinking about trying a store later. I figure most people won't look in the backroom, and there's probably pallets of stuff just waiting to be grabbed even if the front of store's been looted," Matilda offered.

Rachel stood up and stretched, and said, "That is a very good idea. I'm Rachel Berry, it is lovely to meet you. Of course I wish it was under better circumstances," with a smile to Matilda and Gloria.

Gloria beamed at her, and Matilda held out her hand. This prompted a round of confusing introductions that Rachel was sure left Matilda thinking Sam's name was Blaine, and that Blaine was Rachel's brother.

They made simple small talk for a few minutes, before Rachel tore herself away with her handpicked helpers of Blaine, Kurt, Brittany and Tina to start sorting and reorganizing.

Rachel's sixth sense was telling her that the Welds women were going to be valued members of their group.

"So we're almost out of diapers, and a good portion of our food is stuff we've got to stop and cook, nothing that we can just eat in the car?" Quinn said flatly.

"Yes, even including what was in the Welds' station wagon. We also have only enough water for perhaps a week at most. Everything is now properly organized and cataloged," Rachel replied. She had left Mack's things in Mack's van alone, not quite ready to yet again root through Mack's belongings. She couldn't help but throw a look at Santana that clearly said 'I told you so', causing the other girl to roll her eyes at Rachel. Yes, it was petty and childish, but she could not help it, this knowledge was important to have, as it wouldn't do for them to go get food for breakfast, for example, and find they had nothing. They needed to be prepared, and know when they needed to gather supplies in advance.

"So we drive for the next, I dunno, two days, and see where we end up, and what it's got?" Sam suggested.

Everyone nodded and voiced their agreements without any arguments.

"Well, we're wasting daylight if you all wanted to be done with Indiana by night time, we leave in fifteen minutes," Matilda tentatively suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Quinn shrugged.

Everyone stood up and went about various tasks. There were children to take on final bathroom breaks, then gather and buckle up safely in the vehicles.

Rachel was fairly certain that Lord Tubbington was actually herding towards the cars once Brittany called for him. Which was ridiculous, but seeing _was _believing.

Since Blaine had Dahlia, and Sarah was helping Quinn with Abby, Chris and Beth, and Rachel really had to pee, she followed Terri to the bathrooms.

The small high, dirty windows did little to let in much light into the gloomy cement building. It was colder inside then outside, and Rachel shivered as she stepped inside.

The first stall she stepped inside someone hadn't flushed after they peed. Disguised, she tried the next stall, and it was clean.

At least, she decided, they had made sure that there was no zombies lurking, so she didn't have to worry about that. A good thing, considering such limited visibility in the building she should have brought her flashlight.

She did her business, then washed her hands with the ice cold water, drying them reluctantly on the back of her sweater, since the hand dryers were obviously not working.

She stood in the doorway outside, pausing to look up at the sky. The clouds were still there, and now, Rachel would swear if asked, looked ominous. She had a feeling that the break in the rain they had would be the last one for a while.

Rachel was about to continue back to the other's when she stopped in mid step.

Terri was crying.

"Terri?" She called quietly back into the bathroom, turning around and going to the handicapped stall Terri had claimed by the time Rachel was inside.

Terri opened the door, red rimmed eyes.

"I'm okay Rachel, just hormones. They decided it was nice to have another adult around. Matilda seems like she's going to be a mother hen to you all. And I got sad because I know I just don't have it in me to mother a bunch of teenagers," Terri sniffed, wiping her nose with a handful of the rest stop toilet-paper, "Just hormones. I'm alright, really."

"Well, if you're sure…" Rachel licked her lips, and tentatively added, "I thought perhaps you were crying about Ms. Pillsbury."

That set Terri off again. Before Rachel knew it, she was rubbing soothing circles on the older woman's back, and making soothing noises.

Finally when Terri got a hold of herself, she pulled away from Rachel. "Emma," Terri started then paused, testing herself. Deciding she was okay, she continued, "Well, it's a shame what happened to her. But I don't know how she would have coped out here, in the real world. So sometimes part of me thinks it's for the best. Like maybe she's with Will now. That'd make both of them happy. I mostly think I cried all I could for Emma while we were driving last night," she added dryly, "Didn't you notice?"

Rachel shook her head, "To be honest, I was so focused on the SUV in front of me I am quite sure you could have turned into a zombie and I would not have noticed until everyone started screaming."

Terri shuddered, "Ugh. Don't even joke about that. I keep having nightmares…but then again, who isn't?" Terri threw her tissue into the trash can, and washed her hands.

"I don't know how good this stress is for the baby," she muttered, drying her hands on her stomach, "I keep dreaming she comes out a zombie. Or worse."

"I am reasonably certain that, given your medical care for most of the pregnancy, and your not having been bitten, your daughter shall be fine." Rachel responded.

Rachel knew that plenty could go wrong when Terri went into labor. All it would take was Terri bleeding too much, or something horrible going wrong that would, if the situation was normal, require a cesarean section.

But she tried to keep on the bright side, and hope that everything went well. They'd do the best they could.

"Fine except she'll be born god knows where, delivered by teenagers instead of a team of doctors. And I'll have to do it _naturally_. My body is not a body meant for pain, Rachel," Terri sighed, then with a little grin added, "Do you think Matilda just forgot to mention she's also a trained obstetrician who has a supply of epidural shot kits?"

Rachel laughed, "I sincerely doubt it Terri, I am sorry. But I have added home birthing books to the list of things we shall need. And, just think; once we are where ever we are staying for the winter, you may have whatever expensive baby item you have always wanted. No need to worry about price or credit card debt."

Terri grinned as Rachel held the door open for her, "Well, if that's not a silver lining of the zombie apocalypse. My daughter will get all the pretty and expensive things I wanted for her at least."

* * *

It had been five days since Matilda and Gloria had joined them.

Rachel was not pregnant; she was both relieved, and upset about that fact. Mostly relived. Her monthly had come early, and left quicker then normal. She could only assume it was stress. Matilda had agreed once Rachel had worked up the courage to speak to her about it.

They had settled into an easy rhythm of driving and stopping, trying to balance bathroom breaks for Terri and the smaller people who couldn't hold it to well with their need to find a small town and get some distance from Ohio.

Matilda had slid easily into the role of leader, with barely a hint of reluctance about taking the position. She still looked to Quinn or Santana for confirmation when she suggested something, but every now and then she'd give an order without needing Quinn or Santana to second it.

Rachel loved it. Even given her fear of strangers, there was just something about the mother daughter duo that put her at ease.

It was so nice to have a competent adult around to act as leader. Terri was more concerned with herself. Rachel did not fault the pregnant woman that, it _had_ to be difficult for her. And of course, there was no denying that Quinn and Santana had been sufficient as leaders, but neither girl's hearts were in it. Both had seemed to walk around a little lighter, as if a part of a burden had been lifted off their shoulders.

Rachel knew she wasn't the only one who absolutely adored Matilda.

Terri had been correct in that Matilda would be mother henning them. Rachel did not know if it was because all of them had lost their parents, and parental figures in Mr. Schue, but they seemed to soak up her attention and had taken to Matilda so readily.

They were pulling into a town in western Iowa.

Rachel smiled at Gloria, who was in the passenger seat as Rachel drove Kurt's SUV. Brittany and Gloria had decided to switch cars. The station wagon was in front of Rachel, and she could see Brittany cheerfully talking to Matilda, gesturing wildly as she did so.

The wooden sign, in cheerful letters said, "**Welcome to Elena, Iowa. Population 438"**.

There was a faded hazard symbol spray painted in the sign, which made Rachel frown. She wondered if it was old, or new and the rain had washed it away.

She chatted to Gloria about musicals (it turned out that Gloria was absolutely crazy about musicals, her favorite being Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Gloria also couldn't carry a tune if her life depended on it, and had eagerly accepted Rachel's tentative offer of singing lessons,) while they drove through the main road of the town.

Quinn, in the first car, was honking the horn.

They had found in their tour of small towns in the last few days that they could get a good handle on how dangerous a town was just by driving through it and honking. Sticking to towns with a population lower then 600, on the assumption that most of the population would go to a base had severed them well enough so far.

Sure, there had been a close call in Illinois when they had stopped to get diapers, canned goods, and fuel the vehicles (reasoning that they'd save the fuel Kurt collected for when they couldn't stop) but for the most part it was a sound system.

They hadn't found a town that was suitable to stay in, yet. But it was only a matter of time, they had only checked two other towns after all. She hoped they did soon, because everyone was getting irritable being in the vehicles most of the time.

Nothing came out of the alleys and yards and houses towards them.

"Do you think the entire town went to a base?" Gloria asked eagerly.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps they are locked up in their homes wondering who is honking through the town," Rachel murmured.

"More likely they're zombies and they're too dumb to open the doors," Terri muttered from the backseat.

After another round through the town, with nothing and no one coming out towards them, Quinn finally parked in the parking lot of the towns small brick library, which was smack in the middle of town. Rachel took note of the pretty landscaped grass area with two picnic tables, a small swing set and slide, and a small sign declaring it Elena's Town Park a block down the road, deciding that'd be a great place to have dinner if it was safe.

Stepping out of the station wagon, Matilda stretched and grinned, calling out, "Blaine, Sam, you two keep watch. We'll let the kids out in pairs for bathroom breaks and few minutes running around. If after a few hours it's still safe, well, I think we found our town. "

It had been four hours, and not a peep from anything or anyone.

Confidant in their safety, they had relocated to the park. Well most of them. Happy to be free from the confines of the vehicles, they had spread out quite a bit.

They were all keeping alert, so Rachel wasn't that concerned.

"I'm going to put her on a blanket in the grass, I think, give her some tummy time," Blaine said, rubbing his hand through Dahlia's hair. He was wearing her in one of her slings, and her diaper bag, and looked like he could use a nap.

"Of course. I will take over, even though it is not yet my turn, I believe you need some time with Kurt, and perhaps I will gather Beth, and allow all three of them some blanket play time," Rachel said, smiling at him. She moved Chris, who she was holding from one hip to another. She had picked him up after he had wandered a bit too far away from the others, chasing after a bird.

Blaine grinned at her, "Thanks Rachel." And headed over to the picnic tables.

"Rachel? Can we sleep next to each other tonight?" Sarah asked, yelling across the park to her, and quite obviously relishing being able to yell.

Rachel simply motioned for her to come to her, and the girl did, Stacy and Tiffany trailing behind her.

"Heads up!" Sam called, from where next to Puck's truck where he was checking on the chickens, and pointed.

Four zombies had came from around one of the building next towards them, and veered towards Matilda and Gloria, who were discussing something privately next to their station wagon. Rachel glanced Santana, who started forward towards them, twirling her baseball bat around, a savage and anticipatory grin on her face.

Four zombies were nothing. They could handle them, _easily_.

"Rachel?" Sarah asked, Stacy and Tiffany now next to her. All three looked expectantly at Rachel.

"Of course you three may sleep next to each other tonight, Sarah. We certainly can even…." Rachel trailed off as she heard feral growls. She turned back towards Matilda and Gloria. To her horror, the four zombies had stopped and simply stared at the two woman, then one by one the rest of the group, as if deciding what would be easier.

Louder growling -almost calling, Rachel thought dimly with horror, they jumped up, high in the air, higher than any human would have been able to, and pounced on the pair.

As the two women's screams quickly dissolved into gurgles, Rachel could only stare in horror as more zombies came around towards them, shambling slowly.

Hundreds of them.

Almost as if the four zombies were _hunter's_ for the hoard. Had they been lulled into a false sense of security by _zombies_? That was ridiculous.

Rachel was frozen, her mind refusing to accept what just happened, until finally Sam's screaming voice telling them to run jolted through her. She spared a glance at the vehicles, they were too far away and towards the zombies anyway.

The three girls next to her turned towards her and away from the hoard, fear clear across their faces.

Shifting Chris across more comfortably on her hip, she turned to see what everyone's reaction was.

Kurt and Brittany stood next to each other, wide eyed with horror, before Kurt pulled Brittany towards one of the buildings next to them. Literally pulled, she fought him every step of the way.

Sam scooped up Abby and the puppies that had been dancing around the girl into his arms, and shoved them all in to Puck's truck while Tina helped Terri into it. All the while screaming at them to run.

Blaine, thankfully, still had Dahlia and her diaper bag and was next to Quinn. He pulled Quinn away, muttering something to her that finally got the blonde girl moving. Quinn threw Rachel a last, frantic look, before she and Blaine disappeared into the trees.

Santana was frozen, halfway towards where Matilda and Gloria had stood, next to Beth, Stevie, and Kyle who had been showing Beth a bug. Sam's screaming must have gotten through to her, because Santana barked something at the two boys, and picked up Beth.

She darted one last glance towards the others, then said quietly, "Hold hands, don't let go," and held out her hand to Sarah. Sarah took it as the others groped for hands. Once Rachel was assured that everyone held a hand, she squeezed Chris tightly to her.

Then they ran.

* * *

**A/N:** And thus starts our next story arc. Thank goodness that herd of slow zombies are so slow, and the hunter zombies are busy eating, huh?

If this were a game, it'd be on easy mode. Well, now the difficulty is being bumped up to normal (wait till you see hard mode!)

I hope I managed to make you all like Matilda and Gloria as much as I did, in what limited time we saw them. It wasn't an easy choice to have them die. The two deaths almost went quite differently, but in the end I decided Matilda and Gloria's death's would be less traumatizing, and that they're going to have enough problems without watching two of their own getting ripped apart and ate. Perhaps Matilda and Gloria could be called their own, but when it came down to it, they _did_ only know them for a few days.


	20. Runaway

Her feet hit the pavement, sending a jolt through her bones with each frantic step she ran, matching the beat of her heart. Fury slide under her skin, almost comforting like a favorite pair of worn in jeans. She was furious at the zombies, at God, at whatever fucked up government let the virus or whatever out, and at them for thinking they were safe. Beth started crying, and Santana didn't blame her one bit. Santana felt like crying and screaming and throwing things.

Beth tried to wiggle out of her arms, and started howling for her momma. Quinn or Shelby, Santana isn't sure. And it didn't matter, what mattered is that they keep running.

It took her a few more frantic feet to realize that she was the only one running.

She gulped deep breaths, and mechanically tried to rub Beth's back in what she hoped was soothing circles, because the last thing they needed was a temper tantrum right now, but the toddler just tried even more frantically to wiggle away, screaming no at Santana.

Frowning down at the screaming toddler, and attempting to clutch her tighter, she turned and looked behind her at Stevie and Kyle.

Kyle was frantically trying to pick up his inhaler, so scared and out of breath he couldn't hold it. Thank goodness Brittany had knitted an inhaler holder necklace for him; Santana thought as she took long steps towards the boys, otherwise it could still be in a car. She could handle zombies, unless they were whatever the fuck the zombies were that had started eating Matilda and Gloria, but she had no idea what to do for Kyle if he couldn't breathe and didn't have his inhaler.

Stevie, breathing heavily himself from the running finally picked it up and put it to Kyle's mouth. Kyle took a deep puff, and both boys looked at Santana with wide eyes.

Santana struggled to keep the toddler in her arms from escaping her grip, snarled out, "They'll be okay. So will we, as soon as we get up there," She jerked a nod down the road, towards the motley collection of buildings that made up the main street in Elena. The buildings looked run down, and had seen better days.

Santana had no doubts that if the zombie apocalypse hadn't happened, in thirty years more of them would be boarded up, instead of just the two that currently were. And as the years went on, more and more would be boarded up until the only thing left in this town was a gas station to service the drivers taking the scenic Iowa interstate road that went through. It was the only thing keeping the town alive. This was one of those small towns that got smaller as each generation grew up and left.

She reached out a hand and pulled Kyle up. Before she could let go, Stevie grabbed Kyle's other hand, so she held on even though she needed that hand to keep Beth from jumping out of her arms.

She clutched a still screaming Beth tightly to her bad side. So much for Tina warning her not to move or use it much for the next few weeks while it still healed, she thought, gritting her teeth as they ran.

Santana had to force herself to go slow enough for the two boys, fighting her instincts to run as fast as she could, to run as fast as her inner Coach Sylvester voice was telling her to go. To run towards where Kurt had been pulling Brittany, or the direction Rachel had lead Sarah, Tiffany and Stacy.

She stopped suddenly, and let go of Kyle's hand, putting Beth down quickly, nearly tossing the toddler down in her haste.

She figured Quinn would forgive her this one time.

"Watch her!" She barked at Kyle and Stevie, who both gave her fearful looks, but each grabbed one of Beth's hands. The shock of an adult not setting her gently onto the ground had made the toddler stop screaming for now, instead she stared at Santana with wide eyes.

Kyle started taking short, shallow breaths and fumbling for his inhaler again as Santana turned towards the first of the zombies that were coming towards them.

The things were blocking their escape towards safety. Or what she hoped was safety, anyway- she was under no illusions that if those super zombies or whatever decided they were next, there wasn't much Santana could do besides running and hoping the kids could keep up.

She cursed herself for just standing there in shock while Matilda and Gloria became dinner. It wasn't like she could have helped the two, she knew that. But maybe she could have got the kids to Sam and the truck, to Brittany and Kurt, to Rachel, to Quinn; anywhere where she wouldn't have to be solely responsible for three tiny scared people.

She pulled her bat out of the strap that kept it on her back that Britts had made her, rubbing a finger along the knitted material. She hoped

Brittany was okay. She hoped everyone was.

She gripped the bat with both hands, and took three fast steps to the first zombie, bringing her bat up as high as her injured arm would allow her, then down on its head with a harsh smash that sent an ache to her bullet wound.

Tina would probably give her that look the Asian girl had quickly learned and perfected the last…week? (Had it been a week? She didn't know. It's not like the date really mattered, so she hadn't bothered keeping track.) The look was part disappointed mom, and part stressed out ER doctor that Santana was pretty sure Tina had picked up from ER reruns. Tina had been fairly clear on what Santana should and shouldn't be doing with her bad arm.

Like really clear. Rachel had even neatly written it out for Santana to reference. She was pretty sure the hobbit would have laminated it, if she could have.

Santana hadn't liked being told what she could and shouldn't do. Not being allowed to go on the scavenging run that had almost ended up with Blaine as dinner just so they could get diapers and more gas was the worst part. (She maintained if she had been there, they would have gotten everything in that store besides just maybe a week's worth of diapers, a few cans of soup and a couple gallons of gas they had ended up with. Which had totally not been worth it.)

She had spent her time figuring out how many ways she could call Rachel short in an hour without repeating herself. (39. But she was hoping to beat that record.) She had been so bored, which is why she had practically been giddy when those four zombies had shown up.

Matilda had been a nice lady, and Gloria a nice kid. Quinn and Santana both weren't exactly 100%. It had been nice to hand the final deciding votes, the questioning eyes, the worry over to Matilda.

Probably they shouldn't have been so eager to trust their lives to a total stranger.

But hell, it had worked out for them. For Matilda and her daughter? Not so much. Santana felt a little hollow inside when she realized, as she was smashing the head in on zombie number three, that she was...not quite glad it had been Matilda and Gloria, and not anyone else.

She glanced back at the kids, who were huddled together staring at her. Beth had started sobbing, by now probably close to a full on temper tantrum. Santana hoped Quinn's lizard baby got it out of her system before they had to run again or hide.

Those things would only be occupied with the bodies they were eating for so long.

It scared Santana down to her marrow that those four had seemed to almost…think? And that the hoard behind them seemed to be following them. She hoped to hell that she was wrong, it was a fluke, and they'd reunite with the others and clean out this town easily. In days. And life would be easy and awesome.

Maybe even they'd be the founders of a new safe zone or something.

As she brought her bat down on the final zombie, where it hit with a sickening crunch, she took a few deep breaths.

She turned back to the kids, and jogged to them, putting her bat back in its sling. Her arm was aching dully now.

Kyle and Stevie stared at her wide eyes, and she looked down at herself.

Gore and blackish blood covered her t-shirt. Great. She had taken off her jacket and sweatshirt once they had stopped, mostly so she could call everyone else a wimp about the cold.

She wiggled out of the strap on her bat, and then pulled off the t-shirt and her undershirt carefully to avoid getting the blood and goo on her face. Her sports bra looked mostly clean, but even if it wasn't, she would have left it on anyway. Running without any support would be a pain in the tit. (She may have told everyone she had gotten a boob job, actually she had spent the summer joyfully not doing the Cheerio diet, and gained ten pounds. Mostly in her boobs. She had to go up half a size in her Cheerio uniform, but it had been totally worth it.) She used the inside of her undershirt to wipe off her jeans, then tossed her discarded clothes to the side of the road and put her bat back on, shivering.

She picked up Beth, trying not to greedily suck in the toddler's warmth like the lamest vampire ever. Beth immediately wiggled and said no and tried to get out of her grasp, even smacking Santana's face as she waved her tiny fists around.

They didn't have time for this. Resisting her urge to set Beth down and let her see how far she could run by herself (which would basically guarantee the toddler was a zee's dinner, because she wouldn't get far at all by herself. If Beth could only understand that, Santana thought angrily glaring at the little blonde.)

Stevie was still wearing Sam's letterman jacket, practically swimming in it, she noticed.

"I need that Stevie," She nodded at it, gritting her teeth. Without argument, shivering, the boy wiggled out of it and handed it to her as Santana set Beth on the ground. Beth was hollering for her momma again, her face red and angry.

She zipped it up, tied the sleeves loosely, and looked at it. It was a substandard bag, at best, but she hadn't wanted to tie the sleeves together to tight, just in case she couldn't get them untied. Stevie didn't exactly have another jacket to wear with them.

She plunked it over Beth, and then picked up the girl bridal style, holding her close to her tightly. Inside the jacket, Beth started screaming her head off, and tried vainly to escape, but Sam's jacket held her, making it easier for Santana to hold run with the toddler.

"Hold hands. Kyle hold onto my belt loop, Stevie you're in charge of giving him his inhaler if he needs it," she snapped. Barely giving them time to hear and process her words, she took off, practically dragging to two boys behind her.

Forcing herself to not look at the hoard that was shambling its way up the road, or the four zombies still feasting, she made sure to keep a pace the boys were just barely able to keep up at. Every single instinct was telling her to flat out run as fast as she could, and it made her grit her teeth and hold Beth tighter to help fight them.

It felt like it took an hour for them to reach the buildings, but Santana knew it had only taken minutes. She parked the boys on the sidewalk, setting Beth down next to them. Beth immediately started to struggle out of the jacket as Santana turned towards the buildings.

She quickly decided against the two that were boarded up, narrowing it down to the sickeningly cutely named "Elena's Trading Post" or the tiny city hall that shared walls with the town's gas company and a café. Both had sturdy looking doors, and high small windows that maybe Stevie and Kyle could fit through if they were greased up.

She ran up to trading post, reasoning it'd probably have some useful stuff in it as a bonus and pulled the door open. Or attempted to. It was locked. Cursing in Spanish, she ran to the city hall.

The door opened with a tingling bell. She ran back to the kids to find Beth was just, her face tear stained and red, pulling the coat over her head triumphantly. Santana picked up the girl, coat and all, and nodded to the two boys.

Once they were inside, she deposited Beth in a chair in the tiny waiting room, and then she closed the door firmly, locking it. She dragged the lumpy looking love seat and coffee table that made up the only other furniture in the waiting room in front of the door.

She pulled the jacket away from where it had settled around Beth, shoving it at Stevie, then slid the toddler off the chair, and pulled it over next to the love seat and coffee table. She shoved and pulled and arranged, and after a few minutes decided the blockade was as good as it ever was going to be.

"Santana there's stairs in there?" Stevie said, pointing to the stairs in the clerk's both that obviously lead to the second floor.

Santana bit back something mean. She knew she wasn't exactly being as nice as she could be, being an outright snarky bitch wouldn't help. The two boys were probably just about ready to start crying.

"Good eye," she muttered to him, and pulled open the door that lead to the back. There was a small, windowless hallway. Seeing it was clear, she went back to the kids.

She picked up the couch cushions and the small knitted afghan on the back of the loveseat, and handed those to Kyle and Stevie. Picking up Beth, Santana smirked a bit, because the toddler was quiet, obviously having wore herself out.

Once they were through the door that lead to the hallway, Santana closed and locked it with her free hand.

"Set them down," She whispered, nodding to the cushions. The boys did. Santana set Beth on one, putting part of the afghan on her, "I'll be back, need to make sure we're safe in here."

"Santana do you think Aunt Terri is okay?" Kyle asked her gravely in a small voice.

"She's fine. So's Sam. They're in the truck," Santana said, taking a deep breath, "Everyone's going to be okay." She didn't know if she believed that, not really, but she had to hope they were. She turned around, ready to check out the rest of the building.

"Not Matilda and Gloria," Stevie said, his eyes welling up with tears, which he angrily wiped away with the sleeve of Sam's jacket that he had pulled back on.

Santana turned back to the kids.

"No, not Matilda and Gloria," she squatted down, her arm aching fiercely, so that she could look the boys in the eyes, "Look at the silver linings. It could have been Sam or Terri. We learned that we need to not assume we're safe outside. And…" she trailed off. She didn't really know what to say to make them feel better. Once more, she wished there was someone else with them. After a few moments, when no words of wisdom came to her, she stood up.

"Kyle you've still got your inhaler, right?" She finally said.

He pointed to the knitted cord around his neck then said, "It's about half empty, but yeah."

"Make sure you tell Rachel so she can add it to a list or whatever, Squirt," Santana said. One last look at Beth to make sure the toddler was going to be quiet, (and Santana was glad to see that Beth looked sleepy and had already curled up where Santana had set her,) Santana adjusted the strap on her bat so she could more easily grab it, then frowning, went to look in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

It was one of those unisex ones, tiny and cramped. There was a very tiny and high up window, but nothing was hiding in there so Santana moved on.

The sign on the door to the next room declared it "Elena's Mayoral Office". Snorting to herself, because come on, who would care about being mayor of a town that was this tiny, she opened the door tentatively, and waited for a second.

When nothing came barreling out towards her, she stepped in.

In addition to the matching desk and office chair, it held a large book case full of important looking hard back books, a couch that matched the love seat in the waiting room, a mounted deer head with a huge rack of antlers that stared at Santana glassily, and to Santana's amusement, a bear skin rug sans head and claws.

There was a hoodie on the couch that smelled faintly of beer and axe body spray that Santana, glad to have something else on over her bra, after taking off her bat pulled on. She looked down at it, and rolled her eyes at the cartoony looking font that read "Elena". This town really had a ton of pride for being a dinky town in Iowa.

There was a backdoor behind the desk, and one large window.

Frowning, she went through the desk, finding nothing interesting but a lighter (which she shoved in the hoodie's pocket), a carton of cigarettes (which she left in the desk,) and a huge box of protein bars that looked a little gross (and the mayor must have went to a real town with a Sam's Club to get,) but she still set them on top of the desk to take with her, because it wasn't like they had anything else to eat.

She moved the office chair next to the door, then after making sure the door was locked, shoved the desk in front of it.

By now her arm was throbbing, and that ever present dull ache in her knee was moving towards a roar.

She stared at the window for a minute, then the bookcase. Grimacing, she started taking the books off, setting them in an untidy heap as quietly as she could quickly.

Naturally the mayor of this town would overcompensate with a book case made of real wood.

She glared at the book case, which still looked heavy.

It didn't budge when she pulled it.

It didn't budge when she pushed it.

Eventually she had to get down on the floor, brace herself against the wall, and push it with her feet, using her leg muscles. It was awkward getting it around the corner, it hurt her bad knee like hell, and took way longer then she had wanted to, but finally it was against the wall, blocking the window entirely.

She readjusted the desk, wedging it in-between the bookcase and wall.

It'd take the whole zombie town to get either the bookcase or desk to budge it now. She hoped it wouldn't come to that though.

She shoved the metal trashcan out of the way as she went back to the couch, tossing the cushions from the couch on top of the rug, along with the four decorative pillows. There was a nice looking knitted blanket, bigger than the one on the love seat, so she tossed that on there too. The box of protein bars followed. She half folded the rug over, and dragged the whole thing into the hall, leaving the door open.

Beth was sleeping with a frown on her face, and the boys were huddled together, quiet, just looking at Santana like she was a fully fledged adult, with all the answers.

Santana, for a second, wanted to rage, to scream that she wasn't even 18 yet. That hell, she didn't even know what the date was, that she couldn't even tell them how many days until her 18th birthday.

Rachel probably had a list with everyone's birthdays on it, and a plan to have some sort of small celebration. Brittany would know for sure.

A sliver of worry and fear made its way through her, and she took a couple of deep breaths. She wasn't going to cry. She didn't cry, it didn't help. She sure as hell wasn't doing it in front of the kids who were relying on her to keep it together, to keep them safe.

They were okay. They were all okay. Those things were busy eating Matilda and Gloria. And even Beth could have out run the slow ones.

_Everyone_ was okay.

Felling a little better, she rummaged around the rug, and pulled out a protein bar from the box. She pulled it open, took one, and opened it. Sniffing it with a frown, she took a small bite.

It tasted like someone had mixed up brussel sprouts, protein powder and those really stinky cheeses that smelled like feet, then let it ferment for a few weeks.

She forced herself to finish chewing, to not make a face and spit it out. After she managed to swallow, she handed the rest of Stevie and said, "Here, split this. I'm going to check upstairs."

She hadn't exactly counted the bars yet, but even though the box felt pretty full, there was no reason not to conserve food. She had a sinking feeling that they'd be here tonight.

The bars tasted gross enough they were probably vegan, so even though Rachel had weaned herself off being a vegan, Santana knew Berry would probably like to have them when they all meet up again.

The plexiglas door that lead to the clerks' booth pulled easily open and Santana crept inside cautiously after getting her bat back. She didn't really think there was anything in the building -no, it was pretty clear by the size of that hoard that most of the town was out there. And if they weren't out there, Santana figured they'd be in their houses.

The clerk's desk sat invitingly, but Santana wanted to move upstairs before she checked out the desk or the small kitchenette that was tucked into a corner. The upstairs windows were curtained, while the one's downstairs, while small, were naked. Even the dumb zombies could see you through a window; Santana didn't want to ever find out what the smart ones could do with a window.

The top of the stairs lead to a tiny room with a sign mounted where anyone coming up the stairs could see "Elena's Town Records".

The room was cluttered and the only light in from two small windows that looked as though they were hastily added after the book cases and filing cabinets were already in place. She walked through towards the door that declared it "Elena's Town Meeting Room".

It was a room that consisted of dozens of chairs, and a podium. It was cramped, but the chairs were the ones that easily stacked. It looked like they had been preparing for a town meeting that never happened. Behind the podium were the curtained windows that matched the ones downstairs in size and placement.

They wouldn't be able to fit out of them, but nothing would be able to fit into them either. The only other thing worth noting in the room was, at first glance, looked like a folded up ladder to nowhere, but Santana realized was a folded up ladder that lead to the roof via a roof hatch.

She spent a few minutes stacking the chairs against the wall, letting them smash into each other as loud as she dared.

Santana went back downstairs.

The boys had only managed to eat half the protein bar, and Santana didn't blame them. She just hoped that they weren't here long enough that they'd have to eat the bars, because they were seriously gross.

Maybe if it looked like they'd have to stay here longer then tonight, she'd figure out a way to risk trying to break into the Trading Post for better food. The thought made her stomach sour.

"We're going upstairs," she said. The boys stood up, Kyle handing her the half eaten bar.

She shoved the bar back in the box. Frowning, she handed each boy two cushions, stacking two pillows on top of that, and directed them to go upstairs.

She shrugged off her bat, and then pulled the blanket off Beth. She looked down at it for a second, then folded it up until it was a dense bundle. Then she pressed her face into it, and screamed and screamed and screamed, for a few seconds just allowing the pure rage to run through her uncontrolled. Finally, she pulled her face back, feeling a little better, a little more like maybe she could get them back to the others safely, a little more like the others would actually be okay.

Tossing the blanket on the rug, she carefully picked up the sleeping toddler, who wiggled against her, still frowning, but stayed asleep.

She really did look like a tiny, grumpy Quinn, Santana realized. Bet she's going to be a treat when she's a teenager. If she lives that long, she added to herself sourly.

Santana grabbed the couch cushion Beth had been sleeping on in her other hand, tossed it next to the blanket and folded the rug up again. She dragged it up the stairs behind her, wishing the bear skin wasn't so heavy.

The boys were standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for her, obviously relieved she was with them again.

* * *

Quinn stared at the others, everyone scattered around just standing there, horror and shock on everyone's faces as the sound of the zombies chewing echoed through the town. Suddenly, she was aware that Sam was screaming at them to run.

Her eyes darted towards where Santana stood with Beth, and she half stepped over there when Blaine gently grabbed her hand, "We need to go Quinn. They will be okay…they'll be okay," he muttered, as if he was trying to convince them both.

Quinn gave Rachel one last, frantic look, before following Blaine into the trees, unsure if she was doing the right thing by going with Blaine over running to Santana or Rachel. Her last glimpse of the rest of her friends is of Sam looking pale as a ghost as he drove the truck away, of Terri puking out the passenger side window, half squishing Tina and Abby as she leaned against them.

He awkwardly shifted the diaper bag around that he was wearing, while trying not to jostle Dahlia, and Quinn realized he'd be able to run easier without it. Silently, she reached over and took it from him.

"Thanks Quinn," he licked his lips, and held Dahlia carefully to him with both hands.

Slinging the diaper bag on, she started jogging.

Her ankle was mostly healed now, a fact she was grateful for, so only limping ever so slightly she lead the way, leading Blaine through the trees and across the road to the first house she found. It loomed in front of them, dark red bricks with white trim and a bright blue door.

She put her hand on the doorknob, and realized with a blank face that it was locked as Blaine came up behind her.

"The mat?" Blaine suggested quietly, with a frown as he stared back at where they had came from.

With a shrug, she lifted up the diamond patterned bright blue mat.

Raising an eyebrow, she held up the key, a little surprised that had actually worked. Of course, Blaine had suggested it so no wonder it had worked, she thought wiry as Blaine smiled at her. She wasted no time in unlocking the door and stepping inside, Blaine close behind her. She relocked the door with a snap, and dragging over the entry table in front of the door for good measure.

She turned towards Blaine, "How is she," she asked with a nod, glad Dahlia was being quiet.

Blaine let Dahlia hold his finger, and looked down at her, "Better than the rest of us, I think. I'm glad she's too young to remember all of this. Thanks again for taking her bag."

"I knew it'd be easier to run with her if you could hold her with both arms," Quinn shrugged, "We should look around, make sure there's nothing in here with us."

She liked Blaine, it'd be hard to not like him. He was nice and was willing to do whatever needed to be done, even if he had already done more than his share. But she never really had much to say to him, and even though they were together she didn't think that'd change. She felt empty, and bleak. This was worse than when she had been running through the woods, hurt and alone, with the knowledge that her sister had wanted her dead.

At least then she had a little hope things were going to be okay.

Well, she did have one thing to say.

"Thanks for…just thanks. I'm glad neither of us are alone Blaine," She muttered as they crept into the living room.

He smiled sadly at her, and the silence laid between them, awkward and expansive, filling the whole house with its oppressiveness.

It didn't take them long enough to figure out that whoever had lived in this house had expected to return to it. There was food in the cupboards (and probably the fridge, but neither of them opened it,) and a pile of laundry waiting to be folded in a basket in the living room.

The first floor held a bathroom, the living room, kitchen, and dining room. The second floor consisted of a master bedroom and bath, and an office. There was a basement held two small bedrooms that shared a bathroom, and there was just enough space left over for a laundry area under the stairs with a small hallway. The washer was filled with clothes that had finished being washed ages ago, and now were covered in a misty mold.

When they were done looking around, Blaine suggested they stay in one of the bedrooms in the basement, so when Dahlia cried it'd keep anything from hearing them outside. Quinn hadn't answered, just silently lead the way.

Once they were down there, Quinn started looking through the bookcase, pulling out comic books at random.

Finally, Blaine said, "Do…do you think we'll be able to meet with everyone before it gets dark? I hope we can."

Quinn stared at the comic book she was holding, 'The Walking Dead' stared at her in large, mocking letters.

After a heartbeat of silence, she swallowed heavily, shrugged, and let it drop to the floor, barely able to reply back to him, "I hope so too."

* * *

She did not know if she was simply being egotistical for considering herself the most logical and strategic person in the group, but the guilt going through her would not be denied. She should have realized something was wrong, should have realized they needed to keep alert. Even if it hadn't been fast, likely even intelligent zombies, followed by a hoard that was possibly the entire town's population, it could have just as easily been other people who were trapping them, intent on harm and stealing their supplies and vehicles.

It had, after all, happened to Rachel before when her and her father's were carjacked. Now, approximately seven weeks after the world ended, the chances were higher that they would meet people intending to steal from them and do them harm. And would just get worse. They would need to ensure they did not let their guard down ever again. And perhaps have several cogency plans in place for separation from each other, and separation from their vehicles.

Assuming any of them survived.

She blinked back tears. Now was not the time to cry, not when there were four children who expected her to keep them safe.

She should have known better, and been more on guard.

Then perhaps, Matilda and Gloria would be alive. And the rest of them would not be separated.

As they ran, Rachel tried to keep track of the way the other's were running, reasoning that it would be easier to reunite if at least one of them had an idea of where the other's were.

She lost sight of Quinn first, as her and Blaine had went through the woods. She was fairly sure Santana had been heading towards the businesses that made up the main commerce area of this town, which was smart. If Rachel had been thinking clearer, she would gone that way as well.

Instead she had lead the children across the road they were next to, and up the street.

Kurt had pulled Brittany away in the general direction that Rachel had headed, but by the time her group had made their way there, the pair was long gone. Which was not a surprise, since they were the only group without children with them, allowing them to go further and faster.

Why had she left her rifle on a picnic table when she had went to collect Chris?

Because she had thought they were safe.

They stopped for a moment to allow Rachel to get a better hold on Chris, and all four of them to take a second to catch their breaths. She took a deep breath, and put a solemn smile on her face for the children, then looked down the road. She could try to lead the children the two blocks down the road that was behind the buildings on main street, in a hope to meet with Santana.

She peered down the way they came, and realized with a sense of dread that likely they should not, at the least, be in sight of the zombies for very much longer. The closest building next to them was a house that very clearly, judging by the broken front door and bashed in windows, not suitable to stay in.

She looked across the empty yards to the west. The next closet building was perhaps block away, through Rachel wasn't sure what it was, it did have a large fence around the perimeter.

She readjusted Chris once again, grabbed Sarah's hand, prompting the rest of the girls to take up each other's hands once more, and took off running as fast as she could carrying Chris, which was slow enough that it still allowing the girls to keep up.

Heart pounding, Rachel controlled her breathing as they walked up to the open gate of the building.

It was a lumber yard.

Pursing her lips in disappointment that it was a simple lumber yard- and given the size of the town and the fenced in lot, a very small operation at that. There did not even appear to be any machines, or places for those machines, to actually mill any lumber. Likely it simply bought and sold here.

But then again, it had a fence, plenty of wood, and what was likely an office building looked to be built from cinder blocks, so she should be grateful she had found a sturdy place to hide.

She set Chris on his feet, and told the girls to watch him while she closed the gate. There was a padlock and chain on it, but not having the key meant she ignored it. She threaded the chain through as best she could, pulling the hair tie from around her braid to tie it together. She yanked on it, testing how well it would hold together and keep it closed.

Deciding it was sturdy (but hopefully there would be some rope around) she turned back to the kids, looking around the property as she did so.

The drive way circled around, likely for easier loading and unloading.

There was a lot of wood.

Most of it was in a large covered area, with only one wall; a rough looking cinder block wall on the side that was next to the fence. The wood was stacked neatly by size and type under the roof. The stacks of wood next to the sides and front were partially covered by tarps, she assumed to protect it from when the rain blew under the roof. She was quite sure that those were roll down walls tucked neatly up under the ceiling, but she doubted without power she'd be able to get them down.

Some wood; that she assumed was meant for pickup or just delivered, also sat next to the office building covered securely with large heavy looking canvas tarps. She picked up Chris again, who happily leaned against her.

"Come on, let's get inside," she murmured, and lead the way to the door.

It was locked.

Frowning, she jiggled the handle. She set Chris down once again, and tried the windows next to the front door. Neither budged.

She was unable to open any of the windows around the building.

They were utterly locked outside.

It was possible there was a spare key around, or something -a crowbar? She could use to force the door open with, hopefully, minimal damage to the door.

She felt it was unlikely they had enough time before the zombies were scattered around the town for her to properly search for a key, or a crowbar and get the door open. She did not even want to think about the smarter lead zombies.

She could always break one of the windows; but she was hesitant to do so because of the noise it would generate. She had no weapon (although a short piece of wood would likely suffice) and nowhere to safely hide the children away while she took precious minutes to safely climb through the broken window, and unlock the door.

She stared at the tarp covered wood, and then at the wood sitting in the covered area.

She would just have to improvise a hiding place.

She picked up Chris, and lead the children in-between the stacks of wood, stopping at the back wall, roughly in the middle.

She set Chris down again, and turned to Sarah.

"Please keep an eye on him, and the others?"

At Sarah's wide eyed nod, Rachel continued, "Until it is safe to attempt to enter the building, we will be staying right here. I shall prop up wood against the wall, it will be like a fort!" She finished with a smile, attempting to cover up the fear the was slowly over taking her.

The three older children looked at her with peaky, pale faces, and Rachel had to rely on every inch of her skill as an actress to keep the smile on her face.

"I shall be right back," she finished brightly.

They had stopped for a moment to allow Rachel to get a better hold on Chris, and all four of them to take a second to catch their breaths.

Taking a deep breath, she went through the stacks until she found where the small selection of sheeted woods were stacked.

It took her several tiring minutes to lug one of the biggest wood sheets over to them. Dully, she realized that the cement floor would make it even colder out here, so she set it on the ground to hopefully give them a little reprieve.

She prayed they wouldn't be here by the time it was dark. That the zombies would scatter through the town, and they'd be able to get to the vehicles and leave.

All of them.

She gathered three more sheets, stacking one on top of the one that was already on the floor, setting one against the wall to protect from the cold on that side, and propping the last against the wall, making a lean to.

She finished by pulling several fence posts over, and setting them up to keep the sheet that made up the lean to from unleaning, or the sheets making up the floor from moving too much.

It would be a sufficient hiding place, unseen unless you were standing next to it. And it was big enough that they would all be able to lay down comfortably, if needed.

She hoped it wasn't needed. Rachel was wearing both her hoodie over her favorite owl sweater and her only pair of jeans, and her papa's jacket over that, and combined with the physical activity she was warm enough. More than warm enough, even. She reached down and gripped Chris's hands to find them chilly. All four children were sufficiently clothed for playing outside in a fall day, thankfully, but at night it would get very very cold.

And that's not even speaking about if it rained.

They had no food, no water, no flashlights, _nothing_. Not even a lighter to attempt to build a fire.

With a determined look on her face, she swore to herself that she would venture outside the relative safety of the chain length fence to find food and water and more warm items if they were still here tomorrow. It was unlikely that even if she managed to enter the office building that it would have much besides, hopefully, a water cooler.

Biting her lip, she remembered the canvas tarps….she desperately hoped they wouldn't be here when night fell, but if they were, the tarps would, if she took of her father's jacket and her hoodie and used those as blankets- and provided they all huddled together, provide hopefully extra weight and warmth over the jacket and hoodie that they would be warm enough.

And if they were here at night, they would not have any flashlights, so she would be unable to easily gather the tarps, or anything else that may be around and useful.

She wished that this was a huge lumber yard, complete with a giant store full of tools and hardware supplies.

She sighed. It wasn't, she was quite lucky it even had a fence, and she needed to stop wishing and start doing, as she had spent enough time by now that those things could be anywhere.

She directed the children into the lean to with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then made her way through the stacks of wood towards the driveway.

She was busy pulling the heavy wood blocks that were keeping the canvas tarp in place on the first stack when she heard the high pitched yell from one of the children. Ice went through her veins as it cut off abruptly.

Knees weak, she ran back to them.

A rush of relief went through her as she spied the children huddled together, still in the lean to, wide eyed and scared.

Before she could say anything, Sarah whispered, "We heard a noise. We knew it wasn't you. Stacy was the one who yelled, but I put my hand over her mouth so they wouldn't know we're here."

Rachel licked her lips, "That was good thinking Sarah. I shall go see what made the noise." She hoped the children didn't hear the tremor of fear that was in her voice.

Sarah nodded, and pointed towards the far corner. Rachel knew she would have seen anything enter from the gate, as she had been right there. She had yet to actually fully walk the small property, so it was more than possible there was something in there with them. With trepidation, she picked up a short board. It was still rather long and set her balance off, but it was the only choice of weapon she had.

Her heart beating wildly, Rachel stepped lightly through the stacks of wood. She was almost to the end of the covered area, and had yet to see anything when a board fell, hitting the cement floor with a noise that made her jump.

Her heart now racing, she crept forward, gripping board as best she could tightly. Finally she stood next to the pile that the board had fallen from. She kicked it over, trying to draw what had knocked it down to her so she could take care of it, and finish her other tasks.

"Meow?" Lord Tubbington jumped down off the pile of lumber he had been sitting on, scaring her and making her jump again.

Incredulous, she stared at the cat, letting the board fall from her hands as she asked, "Did you follow us? Well, obviously you did. Tiffany will be glad to see you." She picked up Lord Tubbington, and made her way back to the kids, "I am glad it was you and not a zombie. You scared me half to death. Twice. " She admitted to him as she walked. Then felt foolish as she realized she was talking to a cat.

Even if she would swear that Lord Tubbington looked annoyed, but a little satisfied that he had scared her.

Tiffany smiled brightly when she saw the fat cat, and even the other children looked a little happier.

"It was just Lord Tubbington," she smiled at them as she placed the cat near them, "He followed us."

"He'll protect us from the monsters!" Tiffany declared happily, and quickly drew the cat into a hug.

"He sure will," Rachel smiled again, and reached down and gave the cat, who looked decidedly happier now that he was in Tiffany's arms, quick pat on the head. Even if now, with the addition of Lord Tubbington she had another being to worry about keeping warm, fed, watered, and safe, the cat would likely be a morale booster among the children. Which would be important if they did end up having to stay the night here. "I do not suppose Lord Tubbington knows how to pick locks?"

* * *

When she dreamed at night, she dreamed about her parents and that everything was normal. Well, for some reason there was a leprechaun living in her house with her family, but other than that her dreams were almost comforting. She never had nightmares, even after what had happened at the library.

As Kurt pulled her away, she struggled with him, trying to get to Rachel and her sister. They were only about 150 feet away from where Kurt and Brittany, she could make that, easily.

"Brittany we…those things just jumped and…Brittany we have to go! Rachel's there, they'll be fine! Come on please Brittany," Kurt was pleading with her.

"Lord Tubbington guard!" She shouted finally, when she realized Kurt wasn't going to let go of her. She pointed at Tiffany, Rachel, Sarah and Stacy's retreating forms with her free hand. As the form of her cat ambled past her from where he had been taking a break from mentoring the puppies, she stopped fighting Kurt. Kurt regripped her hand, and ran, pulling her along.

They're all going to die eventually. She knows this. She's not concerned about anyone, really, at the moment because the numbers aren't people or rugs, numbers don't lie.

At first, he lead her across the field to a pretty looking house, all white painted brick, but as they approached the door undead faces stared at them, rotted and snarling, battering the door and bay windows trying to get out and get to them. With a yelp he dragged her past the house, picking up speed as he ran through unfenced yards.

They ran for blocks and blocks, Kurt's fear fueling his desperate run. She tried not to think about how scared she was, thinking instead about puppies and not running into Kurt or outpacing him or how sweaty his hand was.

When Kurt finally stopped, he dropped her hand, and clutched his side.

She liked running, and used to do it a lot before the zombies, and since it had been 43 days since the world ended she was still able to run really really good, so she was fine. Although if they kept just sitting around driving she'd get out of shape eventually.

Santana had told her over and over again to pay attention to her surroundings, so she looked around.

They were in a trailer park, and there was no fencing, just yards that were made up of grass and dirt that slid back into the pavement with an ancient ease. It wasn't a particularly nice trailer park, she decided.

"It's a good thing Lord Tubbington isn't with us, before he became a Pierce he grew up in a trailer park like this, it would totally bring up bad memories for him," she commented idly. She had never liked silences when she was trying not to think about something.

Kurt ignored her.

She frowned.

Kurt had ran, pulling her along that her best estimate was that they were at least half a mile from where they had lost everyone, so Brittany was pretty sure they were the safest, so he should be more okay, or at least not ignoring her. She had liked Gloria and her mom, they were nice, and Gloria had even taught Tiffany a new way to braid, but they had also known them for only 112 hours. Brittany was sad they died, and really sad about how (she knew it'd make her cry if she thought about how much it must have hurt them to be ate, and worse, _watch_ each other be ate, so she simply didn't think about it,) but if she had to pick, she would pick her friends, her _family_, over them. It made her sad, too, because they totally could have become Brittany's family eventually. But they hadn't had the time.

She was still super worried about her sister and Santana and Quinn and everyone else except maybe Sam and Tina and Terri and Abby because they were in Puck's truck. She hoped they didn't find out the puppies names without her and Lord Tubbington there, it was important to Lord Tubbington that he be one of the first ones to know. Plus he didn't like Sam much for some reason so it'd really annoy Lord Tubbington if Sam found out before him.

It was stupid of her to think that, she knew, but it helped to pretend Lord Tubbington was more then he was.

Frowning, she let the numbers swarm around her head, hitting her brain and her brain loving every moment of it.

She couldn't be sure, because she didn't have the exact numbers, but she was mostly sure everyone had managed to get away because the slow zombies were slow and the scary fast ones were still too busy eating.

Numbers were comforting, she thought, as the fear cursing through her veins that she had been ignoring until now slowed. She was still a little scared, she was _always_ a little scared, but maybe Kurt would snap of it and they could figure out what to do next.

She turned towards him, and stared. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was saying "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck," over and over again as he looked in the direction they had run from.

She almost felt bad for him, because he didn't know the numbers like she did, otherwise he wouldn't be freaking out so much.

Furrowing her brow in confusion, she licked her lips and said, "I don't know Kurt. Blaine and Santana probably would be mad, but maybe we could explain it away as an in the moment thing. Do you have any condoms? Santana is the only daddy I want my babies to have." She couldn't remember if Kurt thought _she _thought babies came from storks, but maybe it didn't matter right now, but just to be safe she added, "You were okay at kissing, I guess, so I hope Blaine taught you some stuff."

Kurt stopped his freak out to stare incredulously at her, his mouth open slightly in a way that Brittany had always thought was weird looking, because his teeth didn't show for some reason. It happened sometimes when he sang to.

"Brittany…." he took a few deep breaths, "Brittany what are we doing to do?"

She looked up at the sky, where a few black clouds whirled lazily around. "The sky looks sad. Do you think it's going to cry for Matilda and Gloria later?"

Kurt swallowed heavily, and wiped away his tears, his eyes still wide. He took a few deep, quick breaths, and looked around. "Oh, Brittany…Santana will kill me if I let anything happen to you. Even if she's dead " he moaned, then a little louder added, "We're too far away from any of the other buildings, we'll hide in one of the trailers…"

She really didn't think any of the trailers in this park were all that solid looking. The numbers had never lied to her before so she was pretty sure they _did_ have time to find a better place, but she stayed silent as she followed him from trailer to trailer. He finally decided on one of the newer looking ones, and once they were inside she helped him move the black pleather couch in front of the door and make sure the shades were drawn on all the windows.

"I'm sure the zombies will like…just…go back where they came from? I mean, we were here for hours before they showed up. I bet we can meet with the others by tonight Kurt," she said, trying to reassure him, as they looked through the cupboards to see what was there.

Not much. A half empty flat of water, oatmeal, and a few cans of vegetables and soups.

"I'm sure you're right Britts," he replied sadly, his voice hitching as he added, "I'm going to go lay down, I think." And he shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself, he went to crawl into the big bed in the master bedroom.

Brittany's closet had been bigger than the master bedroom in this trailer. Well, almost.

Thinking about that made her think about her room, and that made her think about her parents, which made her sad. Well, sadder. She was always a tiny bit sad, just like she was always a little scared. She hated to be sad, but she was mostly used to it by now. She hoped it'd go away eventually.

So she busied herself looking through the lopsided bookcase, and trying the television just in case there was power and wondering where the person whose trailer this was, was and if they had taken their cat with them. She doodled on her hand a reminder to take the cat food with them when they met the others, because Lord Tubbington could eat it (Santana had insisted Lord Tubbington eat only cat food while they still had some to give him. It made him grumpy, but Brittany had eventually got him to agree by promising to not bug him about his smoking for six whole months. She'd only agreed to that because she secretly told everyone afterwards not to get him any cigarettes. She knew it made Santana, and Tiffany, both feel better to hear he talk to Lord Tubbington like that.)

Eventually, she sighed, and decided to join Kurt for a nap. They were pretty safe as long as they didn't go outside or make a lot of noise, she was pretty sure, so it'd be okay if they were both sleeping. Santana probably wouldn't agree with her reasoning, but Santana wasn't here. A wave of sadness swept through her at the thought, so she stopped thinking about it.

She woke up to her stomach growling. Kurt was still curled up next to her, sleeping fitfully. She let him sleep, slipping out of the bed and into the kitchen. The stove was propane, and there were matches in a drawer, so she heated up a couple cans of soup, and found some slightly stale crackers in a half empty bag for their dinner.

She ate her share, and exactly half the crackers before she went to wakeup Kurt.

"Kurt," she whispered in the door way, so he'd know it was her and not a zombie.

She stepped quietly into the room, and hopped up on the bed, bouncing it slightly.

"Kurt wake up, you've been asleep for a while? I made us dinner, aren't you hungry?" She said a little louder. She didn't want to make too much noise because she assumed zombies were probably outside and they liked noise.

"I'm not hungry," Kurt's muffled voice from under the covers answered her.

"You shouldn't skip meals Kurt. We'll need our energy to get back to the others," she said, poking him in the shoulder.

At first he simply wiggled away from her poking, but finally he flipped the covers off himself, sat up, and looked at her with tear stained eyes.

"Don't you get it? They're dead. They're all dead," Kurt said, tears welling into his eyes.

"Lord Tubbington would have found me and come back by now if Tiffany and Rachel and Stacy and Sarah were dead Kurt," Brittany looked at him, cocking her head to the side, "Unless you mean Matilda and Gloria? Because they are defiantly dead. Which is sad, but I didn't think you were that close to them?"

"Definitely, Brittany. You mean definitely," Kurt said morosely. He ran his hands up and down his arms, not looking at her before he finally swallowed tightly, then said, still staring at the blankets, "Not just Matilda and her daughter. Everyone else Brittany. _Everyone._ Santana and your sister and Quinn and _Blaine. _They're all dead. Just like my dad and your parents. Dead."

"No, Kurt, they-" Brittany started. She'd just have to explain the numbers to him. She hadn't really been able to explain them to anyone before, but he needed to know so she'd try really really hard this time.

Kurt looked towards the window, then gloomily spat, "They're dead. _Blaine's_ dead. Why can't you understand that? Oh, Brittany. Go be stupid somewhere else please. I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm tired." He flopped dejectedly backwards, added, "But don't go outside the trailer," then pulled the covers back over his head, burrowing deep into the blankets.

Brittany opened her mouth in shock that he had just called her stupid. He had done it once before, but they had been freshmen in school and she had innocently asked if he'd gotten the, apparently designer sweater he was wearing, at one of the big box stores in town.

Santana had gotten the jocks to throw him into a dumpster for making her cry. Something they had enjoyed, and had kept doing, which had always made Brittany feel a little guilty and bad about so she'd try to be nice to him at school even when Quinn and Santana hadn't wanted her too.

She was going to tell Santana he had called her stupid. Or maybe she'd tell _Blaine_, because Blaine would totally make Kurt apologize and let her use some of his really nice super smell good lotion that he hoarded and refused to share. Santana would just make sure some of Kurt's designer clothes got left somewhere, or something.

She closed her mouth, glaring at his blanket covered form. She hopped off the bad, and closed the door as loudly as she dared, and stomped into the kitchen. She put a lid on the soup, glad she hadn't dished his up for him. After double checking to make sure she turned the stove off, she grabbed a bottled water and the rest of the crackers, then settled into the squishy recliner in the living room with a book.

She figured it'd be dark soon, and maybe Kurt would get out of bed and they could go scout the area or something. She hoped that they'd find the others tonight, but figured it'd probably be safer if they had to wait till tomorrow, so either way worked for her, even if she really wanted to be with everyone. It was weird for it to just be the two of them.

When it got too dark to read, instead of trying to find a flashlight, she curled up in the other bedroom in the trailer. It was small, totally smaller then her closet had been for sure. But she wasn't going to share a bed with Kurt when he was being mean. She tried to count unicorns to go to sleep, but her brain turned traitor on her; instead the numbers she had used to figure out if everyone else was safe jumped around over and over, haunting her with uncertainty.

She dreamed she was a zombie, chasing the others through the streets of Lima, hungry and fast and smart. She caught them one by one and ate them alive as they screamed.

The gloomy light peered in from the small, blind covered window and she shivered awake the next morning. The dream -no, the _nightmare_ she had was still fresh in her mind, burned into it. Even after the library, she hadn't had a nightmare before about all this. She curled up into a ball, her face pressed into the lumpy pillow, and sobbed. She didn't even notice when the little bit of blankets she still had on fell the rest of the way onto the floor.

* * *

**A/N:** Santana's boob job -or lack thereof, is obviously AU. Another thing that bugged me when it happened. When we saw Santana's mom later, I definitely believed that wasn't a woman that would allow her teenage daughter to get a boob job.

Reviews honestly help me write, and if I get a lot I might be inclined to post chapters sooner than the once every 11-14 days schedule I'm on now. ;)


	21. Livin' on a Prayer

She had slept poorly, drifting in and out of a light, fitful sleep, sure that every noise and creak was zombies milling through the gate, on their way into the lumberyard to finish them off.

Tiffany had cried herself to sleep asking for Brittany and Santana. Stacy had cried herself to sleep as well, much more silently then Tiffany. Sarah cuddled up on the opposite end of Rachel against Chris, and had remained mostly silent. Chris, thankfully, had not just cried, he'd also simply, heartbreakingly, whined that he was hungry before falling into a deep sleep, no doubt having tired himself out.

Lord Tubbington had stood at guard, until, Rachel assumed, he'd gotten too cold because he'd proceeded to crawl under the blankets and squeeze down at their feet.

Rachel snuggled closer to the kids. Her makeshift bedding had kept them warm enough during the night, along with, she was sure, body heat, but she longed for a cozy fireplace, heavy blankets, and the others.

She opened her eyes slowly, and reached a tentative hand to her nose, which was ice cold. Then she reached across the children. Counting. Finally ending with Lord Tubbington.

They were all there, they were _fine_. Her heart calmed down slightly.

Well, as fine as they could be anyway.

She allowed herself just a brief moment of self pity.

They were not rescued. They did not have any water, food, or even a _toothbrush_.

She took a deep breath, and tried to think of the positives.

None of them had been injured during their flight from the cars. They had survived the night relatively warm. No zombies had made their way into their little safe haven.

She did not know if anyone else was as lucky as they were. Zombies, including the ones that had so quickly killed Matilda and Glory were likely lurking around. It was important that they stay as silent as possible.

Why, oh why, had she left her rifle and the crowbar on the table?_ Why._

If Mack had been here…she sighed. Mack was dead. Like so many, Mack was gone and there was no point in what ifs.

Perhaps it would rain, she thought hopefully. Surely they could collect water when it rained?

Frowning, she sat up. How long did it take children to dehydrate?

Sighing again, she pulled herself out of the makeshift bed, and realized with a grimace that a part of her was…moist. She internally groaned, and shimmied out from the warmth and comfort of the makeshift bed. Shivering in the chilly air, she distinctly smelt urine.

One of the children had wet the bed sometime during the night.

She sighed, and looked over the still sleeping children.

She shivered, moist, and clad only in her owl sweater, jeans, and Mack's boots after she'd quickly pulled them back on. She had toyed with the idea of wearing a pair of her tights underneath of jeans when dressing yesterday, but had quickly decided against it, reasoning that they would be driving mostly, so she would be fine.

Today was definitely colder then yesterday, the icy morning air biting into her.

She crept around their hiding place, and slowly made her way to the outside of the covered area. She was shivering, and the moistness in her jeans, from whatever child had wet during the night, did not help matters.

Last night, as the sun was setting and it was clear they would be spending the night, she had thoroughly searched the property as best she could.

All she had found was a small hatchet, collected from underneath a very padlocked toolbox. She assumed that it had been dropped and lost beneath it; perhaps in their hast to lock up everything and go to wherever they had gone. She had also found several 5 gallon buckets that she was reasonably sure had not had any chemicals or anything unsightly in them, given that she had found them neatly stacked. She had set them up to catch any rain during the night, so that they would perhaps have some water to drink; even if she could practically smell the chemicals leeching into the water from the plastic already.

A quick, disappointing glance at the four buckets showed that it had not rained during the night. There was a bit of dew on them, and she briefly considered encouraging the children to attempt to drink it, but quickly discounted that thought…likely they would get more harsh plastic chemicals inside them, then anything beneficial.

"Rachel?" A quiet scared voice called out softly. Rachel turned around, and went back to their hideaway.

All four of the children (and Lord Tubbington) were standing out from their blankets, huddled together. Chris and Tiffany were both crying, and it was easy to see why. Chris's diaper had leaked through, and the toddler looked miserable. Not as miserable as Tiffany, who was sobbing and soaked. She had been the one to wet the bed, quiet clearly. Stacy looked as moist as Rachel was.

"I'm here, we're all right," she reassured them quietly, "I was just seeing if it had rained during the night."

"Did it?" Sarah asked softly.

Rachel shook her head, and bent down to speak to Tiffany, "Oh dear, you'll be okay, it's alright,"

Tiffany, still sobbing, started apologizing for wetting the bed. Rachel comforted her as best she could as she dragged their covers out of the lean to, and flung everything on several stacks of wood to dry. At least Noah's letterman jacket; which Sarah had taken off and offered as a pillow, was still dry. She would have liked to wash the coat and hoodie, and wipe down the tarps, but just allowing them to dry would have to do.

Ideally, she'd prefer to wash them, but simply drying them would just have to do.

As she straightened out her father's jacket and her hoodie with jerky movements, her fingers ached for a pen and notepad to make a list. Dozens of lists.

She did not have water, did not have food, did not have a change of clothing, did not have a_ toothbrush_ for any of them.

Tiffany was still quietly sobbing into Lord Tubbington's fur, and Sarah, and Stacy looked close. Chris was just staring at her, tears in his eyes.

She felt the weight of their eyes on her, and wanted to start sobbing as well. That brought a memory of her father's handing her a glass of water, joking and laughing and trying to make her feel better about losing out on a solo in Glee.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that her father's were dead, and there wasn't a glass of water to be had. And if there was, she would only take a sip before giving the rest to the children; she could more readily handle lack of water then them, they were so small.

She frowned. How long had they all been without water and food? At least twelve hours, but more likely longer depending on how much they had ate, snacked, and drank yesterday. Panic cursed through her, the children were likely already dehydrated, they would soon die and Rachel would be _alone_ and everyone would _hate_ her, _Brittany_ would hate her for letting them die.

She took a few deep breaths to try to regain calmness, panic would do no good. At the very least, there was a large abet muddy puddle of water. She would drink out of it now; first, and if she did not get ill she would allow the children to.

Well, perhaps she would see if Lord Tubbington would drink out of it, then if he did, she would.

She picked up the hefty cat, cradling him to her chest.

"I'll be right back," she whispered to Sarah and Stacy.

She stepped lightly on the cement, making her way slowly through the stacks of wood, the dim light making her cautious.

When she reached the puddle, frowning, she carefully placed the cat next to it. Feeling quite silly, she said, resisting the urge to ensure she was alone and no one could see her speaking to the cat, "Lord Tubbington, please …drink? If it is okay to do so?"

Lord Tubbington sniffed at the water for several long moments, then turned around putting his back to it, and sat down. He stared at her stonily.

She didn't know if he just wasn't thirsty, if the water contained something that he knew would make him ill or if she was being very foolish indeed, so she sighed.

She went back to the children, the cat shadowing her.

Tiffany was still whimpering, and still utterly soaked, shivering in the cold morning air. Rachel hoped that when the sun was fully out, it would be warmer.

"Here Tiffany, let's get you out of those wet things," She cajoled the girl, helping her take off her pants, panties, and sweater. The only thing that remained dry on the girl was her socks, so Rachel left those on her, and pulled off her owl sweater, gasping quietly at the sudden surge of cold as the blouse she was wearing under it did little to warm her, she pulled it on Tiffany, rolling the sleeves up briskly. It hung down to Tiffany's knees.

Tiffany stared at her with tear filled eyes, and started apologizing again for wetting the bed.

Rachel assured her that it was an accident, and it was okay, her mind racing as she tried to figure out where to get supplies.

The house they had passed on the way to the lumber yard was the nearest building, but at even perhaps a block away, it was farther then she felt comfortable going right now, with nothing but a hatchet and a fervent hope that nothing was lurking.

If there had simply been a car parked, she thought sadly with a heavy heart, she could have used the knowledge and skill Mack had insisted she learn to hotwire it, and drive the children to safety; finding Santana, or Sam, or any of the others, really.

The house it was. Two football fields away. She could do it.

She looked at the children's faces, still staring at her expectantly, and took a deep breath. She had to do it, there was no other option.

Well, her gaze drifted the direction towards where the cement building was. She could try to use the hatchet to enter it, first. Even if likely she would still have to make a trip to the house to see what she could scavenge, it would certainly give her peace of mind to know the children were safe in a cement building.

"I am going to attempt to get into the building," she informed them, "Please stay here."

The kids huddled together, staring at her and shivering, Sarah frowned, and said, "Should I come with you to guard or something?"

Rachel shook her head, "The gate is still, from what I saw, locked. It's safer for you all to stay here."

Sarah shrugged her agreement, so resolutely, Rachel once more crept out of the covered area their spot was, the sun sending bright tendrils of light the best it could in the overcast sky.

The sun had finished rising when Rachel finally stepped back from the building, filled with disappointment and the acute sense of failure. The deadbolt on the office door was utterly resistant to her attempts to use the hatchet to open it.

Likewise, her last ditch attempts to pry the windows up failed, resulting in nothing more than slightly splintered window sills.

She had even dared to try to break one of the windows, risking the noise and scattered glass everywhere. She had managed to cause a spider web to appear, but since the buildings windows appeared to be made of some sort of very hard to shatter glass, not to mention they were almost over her head, she did not make much more progress than that.

She gave up. This was not going to happen, not with the tools she had at the moment. It was a shame, but there was no sense in wasting more time attempting to get in when they were all hungry, thirsty, and miserable.

She returned to the children. Sarah had put Noah's letterman jacket over Chris and Tiffany, and spread the dryer tarp around all of them. Sarah was had the other children minus Chris, take turns telling a part of a story, to keep them distracted. Rachel smiled at Sarah for her quick thinking and resourcefulness.

She took a deep breath, and announced, "I was unable to get into the building, so in a few minutes I will going to the house we passed by on the way here."

The reactions were immediate, and Rachel quickly felt bad as Tiffany and Stacy both started crying, prompting Chris to cry to (although Rachel assumed it would not take much for him, miserable as they all were, but him especially, to start crying.)

Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, and asked quietly, "What are we going to do?"

Rachel gave the younger girl her best stage smile. "Wait for me to return, of course."

Sarah gave Rachel a look that could have easily come from Santana, "And if you don't? What are we supposed to do then?"

"I will. I have to, there isn't any other choice," Rachel sighed.

"You could try the building again, Rachel. I'll go with you, you could have missed something." Sarah insisted.

Rachel gave Sarah a soft, sad smile, "I'm afraid I tried everything I could. I hope there will be better tools at the house, it would be nice to sleep in a building tonight."

Sarah bit her lip, tears pooling in her eyes, then finally looked away from Rachel.

Rachel turned from her, and back towards the gate that was only kept closed with her hair tie. She stood a little straighter, trying to project to the children confidence and strength, even as on the inside, she was as scared as she could ever remember being.

* * *

She slept late; she was so used to getting up early so they could get a full day of driving in, but Dahlia kept crying throughout the night, so finally fed up she'd moved to the other room in the basement, an office, and slept on the loveseat, Blaine's apologetic face making her want to roll her eyes.

She'd only woken up, in fact, because Blaine came in and shook her awake.

"What?" She asked him grumpily. Her daughter was…she didn't think Beth was dead, actually, because Beth was with Santana. If Beth was dead, so was Santana and Kyle and Stevie, and her mind just refused to accept that happening. But they were separated, and she was worried; even more then she had been in the town. That had been a suicidal, knee jerk reaction rolled up in shock and fear. Quinn was a more in control now.

"I made us breakfast. Well, I suppose it's brunch now," Blaine gave her an egar, soft smile, and she grit her teeth. She pulled the blankets back up, and settled back into bed.

"I'm not hungry." She wondered if everyone had found food to eat wherever they hid.

"Well, um, there's…I think you need to look outside," Blaine said softly, and she could hear the tendril of fear in his voice.

"What, is there a couple of zombies?" She sighed, and swung out of the bed.

"Um.." Blaine shook his head.

"The others?"

"I wish I could say it was," Blaine sighed, and she followed him out of the room and up the stairs, after a quick peak in at Dahlia, who was finally sleeping in a dresser drawer in the first room.

"I'm really really sorry, I think they heard Dahlia's crying last night," Blaine muttered shamefaced, as they reached the top of the basement stairs. He opened the basement door slowly, and poked his head out, before opening the door all the way and stepping outside into the kitchen.

The blinds were all drawn, and Quinn frowned, because she was pretty sure that hadn't been like that last night. Blaine saw her look, so he said softly, "I closed them all."

Both of them had been a little shocked last night that no one -well, _Sam,_ since he had the only vehicle at the moment, had came and found them. If it wasn't for Dahlia, they would have went out and looked for the others; but neither of them wanted to be the one to stay behind in safety with the house, (both had argued quite forcefully to be the one to go look around) and of course taking the baby out there was simply out of the question. So they'd simply decided to wait.

"There's a bunch of zombies outside, I'm so sorry," Blaine apologized once more, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

"Don't be stupid, it's not yours or Dahlia's fault. One probably followed us here, and told the others or something. It's not like we know much about these things, it's obviously too risky to go out there with those things, so we'll wait."

Blaine nodded, "I've already started thinking about things to help block sound from the basement."

"We should bring some food and water down, so we can avoid going upstairs as much as possible," Quinn muttered, "And try to block up the downstairs doors and windows."

"That's a good idea," Blaine turned to her, and said seriously, "We're going to be okay Quinn. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you and Dahlia."

Quinn let out a short, bitter laugh. Blaine had a hurt look on her face.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be a bitch, I'd just about to say the same thing to you."

"Oh." Blaine gave a soft half laugh, "Okay, "

Quinn followed Blaine up the stairs to the second floor, and into the office. Silently, he held open on the curtains just a tiny bit so she could look outside.

She stared at the zombies -dozens, if not a hundred, that surrounded the house, milling around, not quite sure, Quinn was sure, that they were in the house, but lurking nearby nonetheless. Maybe they should have taken their chances and left, all three of them, to go find the others.

It certainly wasn't the handful she'd thought when Blaine said there were zombies outside.

She felt dizzy, and it seemed like she couldn't get enough air in.

"Quinn," Blaine said, then a little louder when she ignored him, "Quinn. It'll be okay."

She sucked in air rapidly, and put an arm against the wall because she felt like she was going to fall over.

"Take deep breaths, and concentrate on breathing and my voice," he cajoled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him close the curtain again.

"Sit down, and put your head in-between your knees. Keep taking deep breaths," Blaine said, pushing the office chair towards her.

She did, even if she mostly fell into the chair instead of sat down in it.

Strangely, she started to feel a little better, a little more in control after a few minutes of breathing. She didn't feel like her chest was going to burst with anxiety anymore, at least, even if she was still terrified.

"Is that your first panic attack?" Blaine asked gently after a few moments.

She flinched, thinking of when she'd killed Shelby, or when Frannie and her minions had told her she was kicked out.

"No," she muttered head still between her knees.

"It's okay Quinn, totally natural to have them give the situation," he crotched next to her. Even though she wasn't looking at him, she just knew he was looking at her all concerned and worried.

"Whatever," she finally muttered, and then sat up. She took a few deep breaths, testing to see if she was okay now.

She was, so she spun around a few times in the chair, ignoring Blaine completely.

She was still trembling.

"Keep taking deep breaths Quinn, it'll help," Blaine said, standing up and moving away from the chair so she could spin easier.

It irritated her. Of course Blaine freaking Anderson would be calm and nice.

She stopped the chair, and glared at him, "Do you always have to be a freaking Disney prince all the time?"

"Well, I don't think our situation would be helped any if I...acted like Santana? I could if you want, I think." Blaine said wryly settling into the small leather loveseat next to the door.

"Even before all this crap happened, you could do no wrong. I swear birds used to wake you up and sing to you while you gelled up your hair," She snarled, glaring at him, her eyes darting to his poufy hair.

Obviously self conscious, he patted it down a bit, then shrugged, "I can't help being who I am, no more than you can Quinn."

"Whatever."

"I'm not perfect, far from it. Just ask Kurt if…_when_, we see him again."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Blaine added softly, "I used to get panic attacks a lot before I switched schools," he looked at her seriously, "And I was a coward. I swore I wouldn't be again, so maybe…maybe that's making me come off as some heroic prince superman type or something."

Quinn shrugged.

"The truth is…" he stood up, and stood next to her, "I'm really really scared. All the time. I have nightmares every night unless I keep myself so busy I don't dream. I know I let Rachel do most of the work with my sister, and I feel bad about it. But then again, Blossom wanted Rachel to have her anyway. So I feel bad about that too. I just…" he finally shrugged, and flopped back into the love seat.

After a few minutes, she stood up, and flopped next time him.

"I think we're all scared," she said quietly, not looking at him, "And we all have nightmares. Talking with Pastor Zadock helped me, so maybe we should just..talk a lot to each other about them? Or something? I dunno. Rachel loves Dahlia. And you, for that matter, for yourself and for Kurt, and especially now that she doesn't have to compete with you for solos," she laughed quietly, then sobered up as she continued, "Your step mother killed herself. She wasn't thinking right Blaine. She was too caught up in her own hurt, her own pain, her own horrors of the situation to think much about you _or_ _Dahlia_. I think she would have left Dahlia with anyone who spoke to her last, it just happened to be Rachel. So it worked out for the best, I think. Santana had a bunch of women with….Frannie's group thinking you two were siblings you know."

Blaine smiled, "I know. Brittany told me. And Kurt mentioned how she insisted we were alien space hobbits to some poor woman who thought we were siblings taking care of our baby sister and scared her off from wanting to apocalypse adopt the three of us."

An ache for her friends, for her daughter, went through Quinn.

She stood up, and reached a hand out to Blaine, "Come on, we can bond more later," she said dryly, "We've got to do what we can to secure this place. Hopefully those things will wander away soon."

"They will," he said reassuringly as he took her hand, with a smile.

Of course he did.

* * *

**A/N:**

Santana and Brittany next chapter, as well as seeing how Rachel's trip to the house goes.

Let me know what you think of this chapter and the rewrite. **Reviews help me write, (especially long reviews,) and I might be inclined to post the next chapter sooner then 11-14 days if enough of you leave me reviews. **

Sooo...in the rewrite, Rachel had sex with Finn. Please don't bother to leave me a nasty message; been there, done that and it made me feel like crap. It's just a handful of sentences, without actually describing the act itself, and it was realistic, and important for Rachel's character development, especially later in the point of the rewrite was to add more content, and change things that didn't work for me. Rachel not sleeping with Finn didn't work, for various reasons. Seriously, there's nothing worse then seeing I have a review, only to find it's some jerk with a guest account who's going to be mean and make me feel like crap _for a story choice that was realistic, in character, and will actually contribute to some Rachel/Quinn bonding._

**There was almost 50K more words added to the rewrite, I'd love to hear what you all thought of the new stuff, the changes, and of course, more Mack (RIP).**


	22. Young Man Dead

She was scared. She felt too small and weak in Noah's coat, tentatively offered to her by Tiffany , and guilty for accepting it since all the children would have while she was gone were damp, pee smelling things that would not be as warm as they needed -even with their own clothing. It was decidedly cold out, so she was grateful for the coat, since all she had was her blouse on, even as the guilt nipped at her.

Santana had said they shouldn't baby any of the children, especially not Sarah. (Kyle, as the second eldest, got a pass, Rachel assumed, because he was now a single child instead of a triplet.)

"Rachel, I should go with you!" Sarah burst out as Rachel finished shrugging on the jacket, "You can carry more if I'm with you, and it'll be safer to have two people."

She was almost tempted to take Sarah's offer.

Stacy, standing next to Sarah was wide eyed, and frightened, and that sobered Rachel's thoughts, and made her think logically.

Stacy, at five, could not be left at the eldest in charge of a four year old and a barely year old.

"Do not be silly Sarah, you are needed here. I will be just fine," she sing songed as she walked to the gate, "Remember to stay put, please!"

She was determined not to show them how scared and anxious she was. Thoughts were swirling in her mind -what if there was nothing to be found at the house, and she had to go further away?

What if she _did not_ come back to the children?

What if she came back to find them _dead_?

She found herself petrified, standing at the gate. She took a deep breath, and pulled the hair tie she'd looped through to keep the gate closed, quickly darted through the opening, and relooped the hair tie to close the gate again. It wasn't exactly secure, but it was all they had at the moment.

She stood at the gate, anxiety and terror going through her. She even turned around, telling herself that by the end of the day the others would find them, so she could just be with the children until then.

No, she told herself sternly, do not be a coward. For all you know, the others _are_ _dead_ and it's just you and the children. She shivered in the cold air, Noah's jacket doing little to warm her.

Hefting her hatchet, and once more wishing for her rifle, she forced herself to step away from the gate. Going slowly, then gaining speed the further away from the gate she went, she found herself jogging briskly towards the house.

Never before had she been so grateful for her strict exercise routine. She was not going to beat Brittany in a foot race (the Cheerios trained hard, after all. She doubted she would even beat Quinn, who had not been an active Cheerio for months now), but she certainly had the advantage of good health and relative athleticism that most of the population lacked.

Even if every step on the pavement felt like it would be her last. Finally, somehow, she found herself standing in front of the house, staring at it.

It had once been a cozy little starter home, well cared for, but on the smaller side. Realizing that she should be paying less attention to the architecture, and more attention to her task, she scurried up to the porch.

She stepped through the ruined door, her heart beating wildly. The dim light inside the house did little to appease her unease. The house was small enough that the front door opened directly into the living room.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she looked around the living room. The furniture had been pushed up against windows, for all the use it had done, she sighed, as she looked at a bookcase that'd been pushed over and the ruined window next to it.

There were sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets strewn around, and she was fairly certain there were personal bags mixed in among them and the leftovers of their owners. There was so much dried blood and gore covering everything she barely managed to contain her urge to vomit.

She was fairly sure that whoever had been staying here had been sleeping when whatever had happened to them had happened.

The thought made her freeze up for a moment in terror. And she had to take several short fast breaths to regain herself, which while making her back into control, also served to make sure she definitely smelled the rotting stench of death that permeated the house.

She couldn't help it -she darted back outside, and vomited bile. When she was done, she looked around warily.

Nothing had been attracted here, at least that she could see. She returned to the inside of the house.

Settling back her shoulders, and putting what she hoped was a strong, warrior like look on her face copied off of Xena the Warrior Princess, she stepped carefully alongside the living room towards the left, the kitchen.

She visualized a list, putting things in order mentally that were prioritized. Water, fire/light, food, blankets, diapers for Chris, clothing, toothbrushes.

She would also need something to carry the bounty she was hopeful to find.

If she had the time, she would attempt to get the children something to entertain themselves with, even a single book that could be read aloud would do, while…well, while she figured out if she should be attempting to find the others, or waiting for the others to find them. She didn't like not knowing if the others were okay, or if they were looking for them.

Scrunching her nose in disgust, she shoved a rotting piece of whoever had attempted to hide in the kitchen aside with her boot, and stepped onto the slick tile carefully. She pulled her freezing hands from the sleeves of Noah's jacket, and carefully rolled the sleeves up so she would not be hindered by the over long garment.

It reminded her of Mack, and a little pang of sadness went through her as she started looking through the boxes that covered the counter. Much of it she quickly passed up because it was open -too much potential for the book and gunk that covered much of the kitchen and living room so far to risk contamination, and a further amount was clearly spoiled. She so far didn't see any canned goods in sight, and had to swallow back her disappointment as she carefully rummaged through and around the boxes, keeping an ear out for any sounds that indicated she was not alone in the house.

So far she had heart nothing but her own carefully controlled breathing, and the frantic thumping of her heart.

Finally, thankfully, she found to her utter joy a five pound bag of carrots and a mostly full twenty pound bag of potatoes shoved in between the last box and the wall; thus protected from the gore.

Now as long as she found water, and matches or a lighter, they would at least be fed, watered, and warm, even if they weren't very comfortable.

She carefully hefted up the bag of potatoes, and frowned, trying to find a place to set the things she was taking. With a huff, she set the potatoes back down where she found them.

Carefully, she stepped to the door that went to the garage, and opened it slowly. Unknowingly holding her breath, she let it out slowly as she stepped through it.

It was even darker in here than in the rest of the house, the only light coming in from the now open doorway Rachel was standing in, and the glass panels above the garage door.

There was a car sitting in the middle of the garage. Excitement thrummed through Rachel -she'd be able to take the children with her and find the others, they'd be reunited, _safely_ and-

The dull ache of reality hit Rachel as she stepped forward, and looked closer at the vehicle. The paint was mismatched, mostly different shades of grey.

Worse, there were no tires on it.

Swallowing heavily, she stepped carefully inside the garage, cautiously anxious as she made her way to the front where the open hood beckoned her.

There was no engine.

She blinked back tears, and forced herself to smile. She had found potatoes, and a clean place in the house she could set the things she wished to take with her in the car itself, or the worktable up against a wall. So what if she had been tricked by someone's project car -they had _food_. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself, and find the rest of the things they needed.

Wiping at her eyes, shivering, she went to the work table and carefully cleaned it off, picking up the jars and random items that sat on it and setting them neatly on the ground against the wall, out of her way.

Setting her shoulders back, she returned to the kitchen, and fetched the potatoes, lugging them into the garage and neatly onto the work table. The carrots soon followed.

She started opening the cupboards and drawers, one by one, too see what she could find that would be of use to them. A stack of kitchen towels that would have to work as makeshift diapers for Chris. Nine tins of sardines, two cans of soup, one can of fruit cocktail, four cans of chicken broth, a mostly full bottle of olive oil, a bottle of grape juice, a clump of garlic, two butternut squashes that made her mouth water at the thought of almost fresh vegetables. The carrots and potatoes were nice, of course, and she was grateful to have found them, but the squash had been what she had been looking forward to the most out of the winter garden at the cabin.

For a brief second, she wondered how Finn and the others at the cabin were, before she pushed those thoughts aside and kept searching.

She didn't have time for Finn Hudson, or the memories just thinking his name evoked.

An unopened five pound bag of corn meal that looked like it'd been in the cupboard for a while, and half a flat of bottled water.

So. They had food, and some water.

Smiling genuinely now, she quickly went through the kitchen again, and selected, based on what she'd found, salt, several other different seasonings, baking powder, a can opener, a ladle, a large wooden spoon, a sharp knife, the small wood cutting board, a cast iron pan with a lid she had to debate with herself on taking or not because it felt like it weighted as much as Chris, and two pots.

She almost felt like humming as she finally finished in the kitchen, and decided to search the other rooms. She gave a last wistful gaze at the boxed food on the counters that were unacceptable for whatever reason to take, then walked carefully down the blood and gore soaked hallway to the door at the end.

A master bedroom. The bed was neatly made, and on top of it sat a rolled out sleeping bag, several folded blankets, and some pillows.

Grinning broadly at her find -and even better, it was clean and neat in here, she opened the dresser up. Frowning because the drawer she checked was empty, she kept looking through the dresser, not finding anything except a few mismatched pairs of socks. She grabbed the socks, and tossed them on the bed, and finally checked the bottom drawer.

She laughed quietly -whoever had this room had a hidden supply. The bottom drawer had a candy bar, three cans of soup, and two cans of mixed veggies. She carefully took the cans and candy out of the drawer and set them on the bed.

The closet was next. Like the dresser, someone had taken things, but she did find several flannel over shirts, and plain white t-shirts. They too, went on the bed.

Leaving the master bedroom door open, she went to the next door. It turned out to be a small lien closet, she assumed. Someone had already mostly cleaned it out, she carefully gathered up the one set of sheets and blanket that was left inside, and placed them on the bed.

The next room was a bathroom, netting her two rolls of toilet paper, and bottle of aspirin. Not even a toothbrush. Moderately disappointed, she moved on to the last door.

It was a child's bedroom.

It was obviously a girl's room, going by the pink and lace, and judging by the dust and lack of blood or gore, the people staying in this house had left it alone. She felt it was a waste of perfectly good space, but at the same time she felt bad for invading this area and likely the people staying here had felt the same way. She hoped the girl whose room this was alive and safe somewhere.

She opened the closet first. There were obvious gaps in the closet, and most of the drawers inside the dresser stashed in it were empty, but Rachel was able to find a few pairs of underwear, socks, leggings, and sweaters. At the least, the kids would all have a couple changes of clothing each, even if it'd be smaller on Sarah and very large on Chris. And Rachel wasn't sure how warm it'd keep them, but hopefully their own outer layers, and with the fire she hoped build it would be sufficient.

Next, she rooted through the desk and bookshelves, finding coloring books, crayons, a few boxes of puzzles, a deck of cards, a dozen books they could read out loud, and a stuffed animals for each child. She knew it was silly, but felt perhaps it would be comforting to the children. She ignored the toy box completely, reasoning that not even the jump rope that was stick outside it would be of much use.

She pulled the comforter off the bed, and folded it neatly, then the blanket under it, and finally the flat sheet. She carefully placed the two pillows on top of the pile, and set the rest of the things she was taking with her next to it on the carpeting.

Frowning, she went back into the kitchen, and rummaged in the cabinet under the sink, until she'd found the item she'd been half remembering -a box of heavy black trash bags. She pulled two out, then returned to the girls room. Opening the bag carefully, she put the pile of bedding into the bag, followed by the stuffed animals, and then the clothing. There was just enough room for the clothing from the master bedroom to go in the bag. She picked it up experimentally -it was heavy, no doubt about it. She tossed it over her back, and while still a bit cumbersome, found it was manageable. Returning to the master bedroom, she repeated her process of folding the bedding off the bed, and piling the pillows on top, then putting them in the other bag, the sleeping bag taking up the last of the room.

Leaving her bounty in their rooms, she returned to the living room, where she kicked aside sleeping bags and blankets, trying to ignore how stiff with blood and mushy and rotted smelling some were, and hoped to find items that were acceptable to take. A few items likely would have been fine, with some minor cleaning, but Rachel did not have the water to waste, so she ignored them. She found several back packs and duffel bags mixed in amount the bedding and rot, but couldn't bring herself to touch them.

Sighing heavily, she turned to the furniture in the room. There was a TV cabinet, and an empty fish tank someone had put a note on saying "RIP Fluffy the Fish" with a cabinet underneath. In the TV cabinet she found a roll of duct tape, but nothing else useful. She only opened the cabinet under the fish tank long enough to see if was full of fish keeping paraphernalia, then closed it with another heavy sigh.

Clutching the duct tape to her chest, she made her way through the living, trying to see if there was anything she'd missed. Her boots made a squelching noise as they walked through the slick, icy blood and gore on the floor that made her wince.

She was about to decide to take her chances quadruple bagging the rest of their things in a trash bag, and figuring out how to start a fire with nothing, when she noticed a strap peaking from under the fallen bookcase. It was easily missed in the dim light, and she was amazed she'd noticed it at all.

Moving quickly, she carefully, straining, picked up the bookcase and moved it to the side. Picking up the books and setting them neatly in a stack around her she looked at the bag.

A large floral backpack with a sweatshirt tossed halfway on it, and next to it was a rolled up sleeping bag kept rolled up with a bungee cord. She picked the sleeping bag, sweatshirt, and backpack up, and made her way back to the girl's room. Sitting on a clean spot on the carpet (now marred with bloody footprints, she realized shamefully) she pulled the backpack open and started rummaging through it.

The first thing she found was half a dozen textbooks.

Who on earth would keep textbooks? Really. Gritting her teeth, she pulled them out and flung them, irritated, away. She found a notebook, post-its, and pens, and that slightly mollified her irritation. There was nothing else inside the bigger pouch. She opened the front pocket, and her opinion of the person who's backpack this was went up a notch. It was utterly foolish to bring heavy useless text-books, but at least, she thought smiling grimly, they had squirreled away candles and matches. There was also a comb, several hair ties, a stick of deodorant, a tube of toothpaste, and a toothbrush.

A _toothbrush._

She would use it, and hope that the owner of the backpack had no illnesses. Yes, it was risky and perhaps even selfish, but it was a _toothbrush._ For it, she'd risk what she needed to, to have clean teeth and that sense of normalcy.

Taking the now empty almost backpack with her, she went back out to the garage, where she packed up her bounty, except for the bags of potatoes and carrots. She stepped lightly back into the kitchen, and grabbed bowls, spoons, and mugs, wondering how on earth she could have forgotten them in the first place.

The dishes, pots, and cast iron were carefully stuffed in one trash bag, and the potatoes and carrots in the other, lighter, bag.

Once she was fully packed up, she stood in the master bedroom, wearing the backpack, the sleeping bag that she'd found with it tied on with the sweatshirt. She took a deep breath, lugged the two trash bags up, and over her shoulders.

The overall weight, she was sure, was likely more then she weighed total -it was only shear need that kept her from toppling over, and hunching that would likely cause back problems later in life.

Gritting her teeth, and gripping the handles with one hand, and her hatched with the other, Rachel stepped carefully through and outside the house.

Shear will kept her from dropping anything, it kept her from doing anything but putting one foot in front of the other, and listening for sounds that she wasn't alone.

She was sure that most people who knew her, would agree -Rachel Berry was tenacious.

It was that tenaciousness that propelled her forward, and finally, mercifully, at the gate to their safe haven.

Sarah likely had gotten worried about her, and was waiting at the gate. The younger girl was visibly relieved as seeing Rachel, and quickly undid the hair tie to let her in.

"Did everything go okay," Sarah muttered, not daring to look at Rachel in case things had gone badly.

"Splendidly," Rachel smiled, "As soon as the gates closed and we're back to our spot, and I set these bags down we can give everyone a proper change of clothes, some water, and you may read to the other children while I make us something to eat."

"Really?"

"Yes. I told you everything would be go well, did I not?" Rachel gave Sarah her best stage smile, even though her arms were screaming for her to drop the bags, and now that the danger, the terror, of being outside the gate had passed, all she could do was wonder about the others.

* * *

Brittany pulled off the white sweater she had been wearing, and then the long sleeve t-shirt that had been Mack's off as well. Clad in only her sports bra, she looked through the small dresser, eventually deciding on a long sleeved blouse that was frilly and lacy and eight sizes too big for her.

It pulled around her, fitting badly, but she twisted and pulled and tucked it into her pants, and rolled up the sleeves, deciding it would do.

Kurt would have some comment about it, she knew, if he got out of bed.

She'd woken up cold and shivering, still upset from her dream. She'd ate the rest of soup for breakfast, and after peaking in on a still sleeping Kurt, went into the living room to keep reading.

She couldn't stop thinking about her sister, about Santana, about the others; the doubts Kurt had put into her brain kept churning around, so she turned her mind off and concentrated on the book.

She finished the book by afternoon. Kurt was still sleeping (she checked) and she was antsy.

Kurt wasn't her boss.

She pulled her sneakers, and carefully tied the laces. Coach always said that tight shoelaces made your feet faster.

She grabbed a bread knife from the kitchen. She was going outside. Kurt had told her not to, and if Santana was here Santana would tell her the same thing.

But Santana wasn't here, and Kurt still hadn't got out of bed, and she needed to look around.

She was fast, and she could be quiet, and she would pay attention to her surroundings. She really would. Then, if -_when_ she saw Santana again she could tell Santana she took care of Kurt and they were okay, then maybe Santana would stop treating her like she was no older then Tiffany.

She knew Santana thought she was dumb; that everyone did. And maybe she was, but that didn't mean she couldn't take care of herself. That she couldn't take care of her sister or Terri's baby, if it was just them. Or Kurt, since it _was_ just them right now.

Babies. She wondered how her and Santana would have a baby, now. Not that they were going to anytime soon, she knew that Santana would have wanted to wait until they were done with school, and Santana was in a good place in whatever job she eventually decided on doing and Brittany was able to take a break from dancing. Because Brittany was born to dance, like Rachel had been born for Broadway. But now that there wasn't school or jobs or Broadway or doctors that could make two women have a baby, she wondered what they'd do.

She cocked her head to the side.

She'd let Santana worry about that, she decided, when the time came for them to have a baby. And, she further decided, that'd be in three years. Tiffany would be old enough to help out, Terri's baby would be potty trained, the other kids wouldn't need them as much. Yes. Three years made sense to her. It'd make sense to Santana too.

She opened the window in the bathroom, and climbed out it carefully, jumping down to the ground.

Outside, it was really cold, but she was glad she had left her sweater inside. It was Quinn's turn to wear it next, and she didn't want it to be covered with blood or dirt or anything. They really should dye it black or some color besides white.

She stood still, and looked around the trailer park, silently listening.

She didn't hear anything but the beat of her heart, and the occasional confused chirp of a bird.

She stepped through the spotted lawns, shivering in the cold air, looking around intently.

It looked the same as it had yesterday. She relaxed a little; she knew they were far away from the slow zombies. If Kurt wasn't so mean and more willing to listen to her, she could have told him that. She walked to the edge of the trailer park,

She stared off in the distance towards where they had come from, squinting.

She was pretty sure that was a tendril of smoke.

She grinned, happy. Maybe when she told Kurt, he'd get out of bed.

She wondered who it was that had made it -Santana maybe?

She stretched, standing on her tippy toes holding the knife above her head. Bringing her arms down, and yawning, she gazed at the house closest to the trailer park.

She cocked her head to the side, and stared at it -a pretty little house, white with green trim small and tidy, the kind of house she'd always imagined her and Santana would rent after they graduated.

She'd explore it.

Because she_ could._

They needed more food anyway, and it was mean of her, but she didn't think they'd find much in the trailer park. Or even if the trailers did have a lot of food, -it'd be nice to be able to bring food to the group when they met up again. They didn't have much left at the cars.

_If_ they met up again.

She shook her head, and said out loud, "No." She wasn't going to think like that.

It made Santana sad, and Tiffany scared, and it wasn't good for her to be a Negative Nancy.

She just needed to be Brittany. The best Brittany she could be.

Clutching her knife, she jogged determinately across the road to the house. She was stepping onto the porch when she heard it.

Shuffling.

She turned around to see a zombie slowly making its way towards her.

Clad in just a short nightgown, the zombie's red hair flowed freely down her back, remarkably free of tangles.

That was the only thing normal looking about it. One ankle was only held on by a few shreds of skin, the zombie shuffling on its stump, the foot following uselessly behind it. She was swollen, giving her a grotesque look. The redness on her body made Brittany feel itchy to look at. The dark red stripes of goo going down her face made Brittany feel icky.

She felt bad for the poor woman that had turned into the zombie.

She knew that they weren't people anymore, that they'd eat her without hesitating. But still, she felt bad for the zombie who had died before she could get dressed.

She gripped the knife tighter, took a deep breath, and rushed towards it. It barely had time to raise its arms toward her before she'd stabbed it in the eye.

It feel to the ground with a thud, sliding off her knife. Blood spattered all over the frilly, lacy too large blouse she was wearing. She was extra glad she hadn't worn their sweater.

She stood there, staring at it for several long minutes.

She didn't know why, exactly, just that she needed to try to picture what the woman looked like before she died.

A sudden crunching of icy grass, and a low growl interrupted her musing, and she turned, knife raised, fear flowing through her.

She hit the zombie right through the eye socket.

It almost looked as surprised as she did as it fell to the ground, sliding off her knife.

Her mouth visibly open, she stared in shock.

It was one of the super scary zombies that had ate Matilda and Glory.

And she had _killed_ it.

She smiled, and wiped at the blood on her face.

This was a sign.

She left the bodies where they lay, and skipped back to the trailer park, looking around for zombies as she did. Because where there was two, there was bound to be more around.

She dragged a patio chair under the bathroom window, and shimmed inside. Not even stopping to clean up, she made her way to Kurt's bedroom.

He was in the kitchen, eating.

He dropped his plate on the table as he stared at her.

"Hi Kurt. I went outside. I killed a hunter and saw smoke. Someone built a fire. They're alive. Maybe you won't be so mean now?"

He gapped at her like a fish. Finally, he mumbled out, "What?"

She spoke slower, "Someone built a fire, that means they're alive. We aren't alone, they aren't dead."

He gestured weakly at her blood spattered form.

"Oh this," she shrugged, and tossed the bread knife into the sink, where it landed with a tinny noise that was probably too loud, "I killed a zombie and one of those super zombies. So even if we are alone, but were not, it's okay. I'm really good at killing zombies, like as good as unicorns would be at killing zombies." She didn't mention that she had been really scared, and had only accidentally killed the super scary zombie. Maybe she'd tell Santana, later, but it'd only scare Kurt and he was scared enough already.

For the first time today, since her nightmare, she actually felt like she'd actually see Santana again, instead of that she was just telling herself she would.

Unicorns weren't real. But then again, she didn't believe zombies were real before they were. So maybe there was a chance unicorns were real -but not_ really_ real, but real inside people who were awesome.

* * *

Kyle looked at the protein bar, then at Santana.

"Yeah, it's gross. Eat or not, up to you Squirt," Santana said, raising an eyebrow at the redhead, "If you don't, hey, more for the rest of us to choke down."

"Do…do you think we'll leave today?" Stevie asked, looking at his own protein bar with a frown.

"I dunno," Santana licked her lips, to give herself time to think, reaching out and nudging a corner of the blind away from the window, letting a sliver of the outside world peak through.

Outside, the town's streets were gray and lifeless. There was a weird electricity in the air that made her uneasy.

Frowning, finally she said, "I think I'll try to find us some better grub. And diapers," she added in mocking tone.

Kyle blushed beet red and looked away from her, fiddling with the protein bar.

She added with a drawl, "For Beth. I don't think the paper towels and plastic bags are gonna cut it for long." She nodded at Beth, who was napping in a corner on a cushion, a gleefully shredded pile of papers and empty record books surrounded her, for emphasis.

The kid had gone from a member of a family, one boy out of triplets, always with his brothers since birth, to an only child, an orphan with no one but his aunt and a bunch of teenagers and other kids in the span of a couple days. It had only been like a month. Santana knew she was being a bitch for mocking him for pissing himself while he had a nightmare last night. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she could be _a lot_ meaner to him, and that she'd try to be nicer. Try.

Brittany's chastising face came to her, and she sighed. She'd do better then try, she _would_ be less of a bitch.

She took a bite of her own protein bar, doing her best not to grimace, and wondered how Brittany was doing. How everyone was doing. She hoped the hobbit could take care of Tiffany, who had to be taking being separated from her sister, from Santana, hard. She wondered how Quinn was coping.

Grumbling under her breath, and unable to eat anymore, she tossed the half eaten protein bar on a chair.

It was late afternoon; her protein bar was probably considered a late lunch or a really early dinner, technically, but who cared.

They'd slept late in their warm bed. Bear skins were awesome, Santana decided, and she wanted a ton more for everyone if _-when_ they all met up again. Besides Beth being a grump, especially about Santana's mcgivered diapers, and the lack of anything to eat besides the gross protein bars and some crackers, they were doing alright. Sure, the cushions and blankets the boys had been using had to be washed as best Santana could and laid out to dry, but still, they were safe and alright. And, of course, Kyle hadn't been the only one having nightmares.

She shivered, remember hers. But still. They were alright.

Except for the constant worry Santana had about the others, about _Brittany. _Oh, and there was also the dull ache in her knee that was fighting for attention with the sharp pain in her shoulder.

If Santana had to play another game of go fish (with a deck found in the clerk's desk drawer) she might just throw herself to the zombies. Or take a long drink out of the half empty bottle of booze also found in the clerk's desk. She was pretty sure Kyle and Stevie felt the same way. Beth, at least, seemed okay with tearing her way through every paper item she could grab, or taking a break from that to scribble on with a pen. Probably Quinn wouldn't want her kid learning to be so destructive or whatever, but Quinn wasn't here, Santana was.

"It's not that bad if you take a sip of water after every bite," Stevie decided, doing just that with his own bar, "And you've gotta take small bites."

She'd had to stop herself multiple times during the day from going outside and trying to find Brittany, or anyone. She had a good idea where Rachel had gone, given enough time she probably could have found them.

But she was scared. Of the zombies. Of the four zombies that had feasted on Matilda and Glory. Of not coming back, and leaving two kids and a toddler to fend for themselves. Of finding Rachel and Sarah and Tiffany and little Stacy and Chris wandering around half ate, gross zombies that would try to eat her.

She didn't have it in her to beat in a zombie Tiffany's skull with her bat. She didn't.

So she'd stayed put all day, and settled on occasionally screaming into a pillow and anxiously checking outside the windows.

It was getting colder, she realized.

"Have you guys noticed it's getting colder?" She asked, untangling her crossed legs and standing up, walking the few steps to where Beth napped, a frown on her little face.

Both boys nodded.

"Well, crap." She didn't want them to freeze to death or anything. So she'd better go next door and see what the "Trading Post" had.

She totally wasn't using this as an excuse to go outside.

* * *

Alright, she'd totally used it as an excuse to go outside.

And it was the best thing ever. She felt better no longer stuffed with the kids on the second floor. Sure, it was reckless, but she felt like she was going to snap if she had to play another game of 'Go Fish' and try to choke down another bar.

She'd gone through the roof hatch, and onto the roof.

The kids' fears had not been calmed watching her stack chairs and scurry up them, and onto the roof. Kyle'd been as stoic as an eight year old could get, but Stevie'd cried. (Beth had still been napping. She told them to not wake her up, but if the lizard baby did wake up, to try to get her to drink some tea. Tea and sugar had been awesome to find in the kitchenette, even if Santana had to let it sit all night just to get it strong enough since they had nothing to heat with. And Beth had so far refused to eat any of the protein bar. Not that Santana blamed her, but it probably couldn't be good for her to not eat anything but the one package of saltines Santana found, and that the three of them had enviously watched the toddler devour.)

They were worried she wasn't coming back. Which was dumb, she was Santana, of _course_ she'd come back.

Whatever.

She'd guessed correctly -the other buildings along the row that were connected to their building also shared roofs, and more importantly -all had roof hatches.

Including the 'Elena's Trading Post'.

She dropped down inside the trading post, landing with a thud that sent a jolt through her knee.

Probably not the smartest thing she'd ever done.

She took a second to catch her breath and look around.

It looked like she was in a employee area. In the dim light through the windows, she saw an office, and another door with a unisex bathroom sign on it.

Cool.

Feeling confidant more and more, even though she was a bit dizzy, (she figured it was from jumping through the hatch) she lazily grinned. Double checking her bat, she shivered, suddenly chilly.

She went down the stairs carefully, her bat out and ready.

No way was she getting taken out by a freaking zombie. No way.

The dim light cast weird shadows that almost made her a little freaked out.

She spurred herself on, grit her teeth, and took a deep breath.

Downstairs was as crowded and cluttered as she expected. Grinning lazily, she put her bat back into the strap, and grabbed a couple of official Elena backpacks. They looked like crappy, thin, cheap material, but they'd do the job. She also grabbed a bunch of official Elena sweatshirts and shirts, tying the sleeves through one of the backpacks so she wouldn't have to waste space on them.

Turning, she picked a spot in the store, and started going from there, a little confused at so many things to pick from.

They needed food, so it made sense to go to the small food area first. She bypassed the deli, trying not to throw up at the smell of the rotting stuff, and went to the drinks. She opened a Gatorade, and chugged it all the way down, before shoving five into the backpack.

She found the small selection of canned goods, and selected a bunch of soups that looked like they'd be okay for everyone to eat, even if it'd be cold, filling up the other backpack with them. She slung it on, and meandered to the crap food, and grabbed some candy bars, chips, and jerky.

She found the small travelers selection, and grabbed some pain killer for her wounds. There was also some toothpaste, tooth brushes, and floss. She passed them up, but Berry's scolding face came to her, and with a sigh she grabbed a handful of everything and tossed them in the bag.

It took her a second to think of what she needed to grab next, to her annoyance.

Diapers, duh.

She quickly found the section of diapers, and grabbed the biggest box of diapers there was. She figured 86 should last Beth a long ass time, so it'll be worth lugging it back. She picked the size that had the kid on it that looked the most like Beth. She tossed a couple things of wet wipes and rash cream in the backpack along with toddler rice and some other weird looking baby food.

The backpack was full, so she shrugged it on carefully, and awkwardly since she had the other backpack and her bat on, wincing as the pressure hit her hurt shoulder.

Picking up the diapers, she made her way back up the stairs to the employee's area. She set down the bags and diapers, and pulled the lunch table under the hatch, and set a chair on top of it. There, she'd be able to get up and down way easier now. There was plenty of stuff to grab, and no reason not to come back, it was safe.

She eyeballed the closed bathroom door. Wouldn't hurt to go while she was here, it was hell of a lot safer then creeping down to the first floor in the city hall, plus there wasn't rugrats not giving her a moment of peace here.

She stepped lightly to the bathroom, most of her fears forgotten as she opened the door.

The zombie fell into her.

It was all she could do to keep it's nipping teeth from ripping out her throat with one arm while she reached for her bat with the other. Sharp pain went through her forearm as she finally freed her bat, scrambled backwards, and brought the bat down on the zombies head.

It twitched, but stayed down.

She almost dropped the bat when she looked at her arm, and realized the zombie's nails had gorged her arm in four deep marks.

She was going to _die._ This was it, she was dead.

How could she have been so stupid?

In a rage, she kept hitting the zombie's head over and over until it was nothing but a flat mash of zombie goop.

She leaned over, and threw up. When she was done, she wondered how long she had. It took minutes when you were bitten, how long did it take when you were scratched?

Panic going through her, she put the bat back, and grabbed the diapers and one of the backpacks, and frantically went up the table and chairs and through the hatch, forcing herself to hold on and pull her up through the hatch despite her pain, and now heavy shivering.

She barely remembered going across the roofs and opening the roof hatch to the city hall. She dropped through, and landed in a lump on the floor, a twinge in her ankle and pain throughout her knee and shoulder doing nothing to ease the panic.

"Santana, are you okay? What'd you find?" Kyle's concerned voice asked her as the red haired boy cautiously walked towards her. She shrugged off the sweatshirt and t-shirt covered backpack, and tossed the diapers down.

"Stuff. You'll be fine, okay? You'll be fine?" She snarled, forcing herself to stand up. She figured she had half an hour, an hour, tops. She needed to leave, and go find Rachel.

"You can't leave Santana," Stevie said. She hadn't realized she'd said that out loud.

"I'm going to turn, and if I stay I'll eat you," Santana glared, started for the door.

"You were bit?" Kyle asked, fear making him step back from her, and start taking shallow, panic breaths.

"No, I was scratched," Santana turned and held out her arm.

"You weren't bit Santana, you'll be _okay_," Kyle said after taking a puff on his inhaler.

"I feel crappy, it's just a matter of time Squirt. Sorry. I'm going to get Rachel, she's close enough I can at least tell her where you are, and she'll take care of you. You guys will be okay, I promise." Santana opened the door.

She couldn't remember if the backpack she'd grabbed had the good food, or the crap food, in it or not. Why hadn't she grabbed both?

The boys shared a look. "Can't you wait till tomorrow? It's dark out Santana," Stevie's voice piped up.

She hadn't even _noticed_ it'd gotten dark.

"That's stupid as hell. Don't you _understand?_ I don't _have_ until tomorrow. I'm going to turn, and I'm going to eat you if I'm here." Santana snarled again, her hand on the door knob. It took her several seconds to open the door, her fingers not cooperating.

"Santana, please just wait," Stevie begged. Santana turned to glare one last time at the kids, hoping that'd stop them from doing something stupid like following her.

The last thing she remembered was seeing snow start to fall through the open roof hatch as the world went dark.

* * *

**A/N:**

Let me know what you think of this chapter and the rewrite. **Reviews help me write, (especially long reviews,) and I might be inclined to post the next chapter sooner then the normal update rate of 11-14 days if enough of you leave me reviews.**

Santana's got an infection from her shoulder wound, hopefully you saw the hints before she got scratched, including that she was a bit scatter brained, and not quite herself. Scratches in this story don't kill, just bites. But the characters don't know that for sure at this point... :)

Special shout out to KrazyJJ who's reviews were lovely to read this past week.


	23. Long Hard Times to Come

She finally let the bags slip from her hands, and shrugged off the backpack when they were next to their lean to -which, after being in a house, abet a house that was not suitable shelter, had never seemed more pathetic. Her arms and hands ached, and the air felt colder, but her excitement at having food, blankets, matches and a _toothbrush_ paled in comparison to the ache and cold.

Tiffany, Stacy, and Chris were huddled in her father's overcoat, and she could see they were all shivering, despite the shared body heat, and the heavy coat surrounding them.

She shrugged off Noah's jacket, and handed it to Sarah who was standing anxiously next to her. Instead of pulling it on, the girl went to the other children, crouched down, and after hesitating a second, wrapped it around Chris.

Rachel was proud of her. And Rachel wanted so much more for her then she had to offer; for all of the children.

It helped spur Rachel's icy fingers to untie the first, then the second, trash bags. Pulling things out and setting them in semi-organized piles until all of them were staring in awe.

Chris making a pathetic grasping motion at the piled blankets broke Rachel out of her disbelief at their bounty -and broke her heart a little, too.

"There is enough clothing," she nodded at the pile of items she'd taken out of the girl's room as she picked up a handful of the dishtowels, "for you each to have two outfits in addition to what you were wearing when we separated. Please pick what you would like. Sarah, you may have one of the flannel shirts as well." Stretching her fingers, she picked up Chris, who whimpered in her arms. Her heart melted a little more.

"Oh, poor baby, do you want a new diaper?" He nodded solemnly, She had to fight him a bit, but eventually she got Noah's jacket off of him, the rest of his clothing was easier. She cleaned him up as best she could with dry dish towels, humming comforting words to him as she did, and making absolutely sure she did not touch anything with her hands to make their limited cleanup easier. Likely it would have been even easier to do if she'd laid him down, but she refused on principal.

"Rachel," a voice cut through her concentration on cleaning Chris up, "I want the purple leggings. But so does Sarah and Tiffany."

Rachel finished, then trying not to be too annoyed at the girls, turned towards them.

"Does it matter? Really?" She said, her tone making it clear she thought they were foolish.

Stacy looked down, "No, I'm sorry."

Sarah looked ashamed of herself, "Why don't we give them to Chris?"

"Purple's a girl's color," Stacy mumbled.

Tiffany looked like she was going to cry at losing the purple leggings.

"Purple is simply a color, and anyone can wear it," Rachel said primly, then gentler, added, "And I think Chris would like them, thank you," she added as Sarah reluctantly handed the aforementioned leggings to her.

She quickly folded and twisted the dishtowels, and finally got Chris in a triple layered dishtowel diaper mostly held onto him by a pair of undies and leggings.

It'd do for now. Leaving Sarah to finish dressing him in clean socks, one of the sweaters, and his own hoodie (his long sleeved t-shirt, socks, and jeans and tiny boots put in a pile for Rachel to deal with later.) Rachel carefully carried his much used diaper and the towels she'd cleaned him with to the far side of the lumber yard, where she tossed them over the fence.

She dampened her hands as best she could in the puddle, after having to break the thin ice that covered it with her hatchet, incensed with herself for not thinking to grab any of the soaps from the kitchen.

The children were looking a little warmer when she returned to them. She picked up Chris, and held his cold body close the her, then turned to the remaining children, "Let's have a snack and some water, shall we?"

One carrot and a bottle of water each later, the children were huddled under blankets coloring while Rachel set to work walking around the property and gathering cinder blocks for the fire pit. She was lugging that last cinderblock over when she realized she hadn't grabbed the grill rack from the BBQ that was in the backyard. Perhaps she'd have to make another trip to the house; there were the bags she hadn't brought herself to search, and possibly some of the blankets and sleeping bags could be salvaged.

Once she had most of the cinderblocks arranged to her satisfaction for a fire pit large enough to accommodate both of the pots and the cast-iron pan at the same time, if need be, in between two stacks of wood, she started working on their new shelter.

She took several long pieces of lumber, and propped them up against the stacks that had the fire pit centered in between them, set against more pieces at the bottom to keep them sturdy. Then she flung one of the tarps on the lumber, hefting a cinderblock on top to keep the tarp in place. She took the second tarp and flung it over one of the open sides of the lean to, and over as much of the other tarp as possible for extra insulation.

She could hear Chris start in the start of a temper tantrum, and the other children attempt to calm him and keep him quiet. As long as he wasn't outright screaming -and thus drawing attention to them, she'd leave the kids be, because there was more important tasks at hand.

She laid down the boards that made up the "floor" of their first lean-to again, then laid a sheet over them, then the comforter off the king size bed, then a blanket, then another sheet. Next she arranged the sleeping bags, pillows, and the rest of the blankets.

It was much nicer, she thought, looking at it, then the first lean-to, and would be much warmer with just the blankets, but with the addition of the fire pit in front it would be just lovely.

She took her hatchet, selected a long piece of lumber from a stack away from them, and started chopping at it with her hatchet to get small pieces for kindling.

Her stomach growled angrily, even with the carrot and bottle of water she'd consumed, and chopping at the piece of wood was tedious, and hard to keep a good grip with her icy hands, but eventually she was satisfied at the amount she had.

Lord Tubbington watched her as she carefully gathered the small pieces into one of the five gallons buckets, and made her way back to the fire pit, stopping briefly to check on the children and get the matches and rip a few precious pieces of paper from the notebook. She realized she should have grabbed one of the textbooks just to use for starting fires.

Chris had been satisfied by the other children giving him _all_ the crayons while Sarah quietly read out loud to them. Rachel frowned, but allowed it to continue like that for the moment. It wasn't fair to Tiffany, Stacy, or Sarah, but it kept the toddler quiet and that's what mattered for now.

Rachel certainly intended on working out the over indulgence and "boys will be boys" mantra that Quinn's sister and brother in law had allowed to fester in Chris. She did not think Quinn would mind.

_Rachel adjusted Dahlia's sling as she watched Quinn, trying to make it not obvious she was watching the pink haired girl. Dahlia yawned sleepily, raised an arm out of the blanket that Rachel gently tucked back into the sling after a moment. While she preferred to use the sling, Blaine preferred the backpack. As far as either of them could tell, Dahlia did not yet have a preference._

_"Chris, no! Mean!" Quinn said sharply, taking the toy he had just bopped Beth on the head with away. Beth herself looked stunned for a moment, before starting to cry. Quinn glared at her sister's child, then cooed over Beth, picked her up and held her close, leaving Chris alone on the blanket the toddler's had been sitting on. _

_Rachel leaned against the wall she was sitting in front of, and watched the trio. Chris frowned, then raised him arms up to gesture to Quinn that he wanted to be picked up, too. Quinn ignored him, still comforting Beth._

_"Dinner's ready," Matilda called out quietly to the group of them that were in the living room of the house they had found to stay the night in. At the moment, it was just Quinn, Brittany, Rachel, Terri and the children; the others were out with the cars or looking through the neighboring homes. Luckily, this house had a propane stove, so they would have warm food for the first time in several days._

_Still comforting Beth, Quinn went into the dining room, leaving Chris by himself. _

_Frowning, Rachel stood up. Far be it for her to disparage another's parenting, but Quinn certainly could not have been going about things the proper way with the two toddlers. Her eyes darted to Abby, who was quietly playing by herself next to Tiffany. Quinn hadn't even glanced at her niece, leaving her care to Brittany. She usually left Chris to Brittany, for that matter as well, unless the tall blonde girl gave Quinn a look, and suggested that Beth play with her cousins. _

_Fortunately, Matilda seemed to be under the impression Quinn was taking care of her orphaned niece and nephew, while in mourning, so she did not question Quinn's somewhat cold behavior towards them, or that Brittany did the majority of their care. _

_Rachel was certainly not pleased that Brittany had essentially kidnapped Frannie's two youngest children, placing the burden of protecting and caring for two more children in a group that already had so many, but they were here now, and Quinn needed to at least attempt to care for them. _

_Quinn should not be taking out Frannie's murder of Mack on her sister's children. She was cold, and harsh to them when she did interact, and Rachel was growing concerned. _

_Someone needed to talk to her, and Rachel was starting to believe that person was her. _

_As soon, she resolved, that they found the place they were looking for to stay during the winter and were off the road, she would attempt to speak to Quinn about Frannie's children. If that did not work, then perhaps she could speak to Santana about her concerns, and get the Latina girl to speak to Quinn. Hopefully, one of them could get through to her. _

_Quinn did not need to love her sister's children; just treat them the same as she treated the other children. _

No, Quinn would not mind at all. It was rather obvious that only blonde girl that wanted them around was Brittany. Rachel resolved do more with Chris and Abby both once they were all together again, but for now she'd settle on working with Chris, and giving the toddler the love and attention he's lacked since he was taken from his mother and father.

It took three matches, two burned finger tips and an agonizingly long time to her growling stomach (she was fairly certain the carrot and water had just made her hungrier,) but _finally_ Rachel had a fire going.

It was, from there, simple to gather the smaller cut lumber and bring it over for the fire; she even enlisted Sarah and Stacy to help gather and stack it closer to them.

Once the fire was roaring happily, she had the children move into the lean to, new stuffed animals in hand, and she herself starting mixing up a mixture of corn meal, baking powder, olive oil, and water in what she hoped would be an edible corn bread to go with the cans of soup she was planning on heating up.

Eventually, they'd run out of the smaller cuts of lumber, and Rachel would have to chop the larger pieces into a more manageable size. Rachel was trying to remain confident that they would not remain here_ that_ long.

* * *

Rachel clutched the blanket tighter around her with one hand, and held the candle a little higher with the other. Carefully, she walked through the snow, Mack's sturdy boots keeping her feet warm and dry. The dim candle light cast just enough light that she could see.

It had been snowing on and off for a few hours now, and already the snow on the ground was taller than the cement floor of the covered area. She was concerned with how much was going to fall and her thoughts kept straying to the others. Did they share her concerns about fuel for their fires? Yes, she was in a _lumber_ yard, but if the snow kept on as it was, she would run out of the smaller pieces of lumber trying to keep them warm, as she was already using much more then she planned on because of the snow. If it kept up like it was, she would have to start using her hatchet to hack away at the larger pieces by tomorrow, perhaps.

Or were the other's more concerned with trying to stay dry and as warm as possible? She sighed, and finally came to the far corner of the lot that made up their bathroom area. She'd encouraged the children to visit it every time the snow had let up; she herself took Chris with her, and gently encourage him to use the "potty" instead of his make shift diaper. She had no idea if she was correctly potty training the toddler or setting him up for a lifetime of bathroom issues, but it seemed to be working well enough for now.

She set the candle down, and stared at the top of the cinder block fence, before climbing up on the pieces of wood she'd brought over here so she could reach it.

The children had insisted on a small fire near their makeshift restroom, for warmth and light. Rachel had allowed them to decide where it went, and they'd picked the top of the fence where the corners met. It was just above the small plank covering the five gallon bucket that acted as their makeshift toilet.

Rachel had opened her mouth to argue with them, and point out several better places for a fire, but closed it. She'd allow them this, tonight, and change it to somewhere more suitable tomorrow.

It did provide a lovely cast of warm light over them. Her main concern was it attracting unwanted attention; so she kept it small, and was glad it was on the opposite side of the gate. The fact that it was in a metal bucket she'd found while looking around the office building, this time with the intent of making sure she had not missed something instead of frantically trying to break in, helped ease her worries a tiny bit. At the least, it protected the small fire from the weather, and so all she had to do was make sure the opening stayed clear and add a bit of wood to it every now and then.

She would relocate it for certain tomorrow, however. As it was she would likely remain on guard all night.

Since she had to tend to the fire anyway, it wasn't _totally_ inconvenient.

Their makeshift bathroom area was covered by a piece of flat wood panel held in place with cinder blocks. At the least, it kept the snow from piling up in their bucket. It was already difficult enough for Rachel to empty it, there was no need to make things worse. Rachel was in constant fear the makeshift-roof would come down on someone, bringing snow and cinder blocks on their heads.

Another thing to fix tomorrow. Perhaps even moving it, as disguising as that'd be, near their lean-to, or at least under the covered area.

Frowning, she carefully fed the small fire, taking great care not to touch the metal bucket, able to feel the heat comforting heat coming off of it. She held out her icy hands, warming them.

What she needed to do, she mused as she carefully stepped down and picked up her candle, clutching the blanket closer around her, was return to the house, and search the garage for a crowbar, or something that would enable her to get them inside the building. There was also the matter of the other things that she had neglected to get from the house. Once in the office building, she could recreate the lean-to for them to sleep in, and figure out something for their fire; likely she'd end up using the cinder blocks again, this time arranged differently. It would be hellishly unsafe, but better then freezing to death.

Then, with the knowledge that the children were safe in the building, she could venture further away, search for more food, and the others.

She made her way back to the covered area, the candle light casting long shadows around her. Lord Tubbington was waiting for her at the edge of the covered area. He meowed at her, and smiling, she reached down and set the candle down, then scratched behind his ears and rubbed under his chin. Once he showed he was satisfied with her attention by walking away from her, stopping a few feet away and turning around to stare at her, she tucked the piece of hair that strayed from her braid (and oh how nice it'd been for all of them to have their hair combed and neatly braided; as much as it irked her to share it, she also shared the toothbrush, and it was certainly a morale booster for them all to have clean teeth). Her hand stilled as she realized it was the chunk of hair that she'd cut off to escape the zombie holding it on that first horrible day. She never did get around to having someone even her hair up for her; too busy, too much in mourning, too scared, too unimportant to think about it. She tucked it behind her ear, wishing for a headband to keep it out of her face.

Picking up her candle, she walked quietly to where Lord Tubbington was waiting. She was debating between making yet another batch of corn bread, (they'd had soup and corn bread for their large meal, and then juice and corn bread afterwards. Her cornbread didn't taste quite right, but it was edible and filling), hacking away at more wood for the small pieces that she allowed the children to add to the fire when it was low, or attempting to do laundry as best she could, as the pair made their way back towards the children when she heard a scream.

She stood stock still, shivering as the blanket slipped from her grasp.

She ran the rest of the way to the children, eyes wide with panic.

Sarah and Stacy met her just outside the lean-to. Tiffany was sobbing inside it.

"We thought that was you that screamed?" Sarah said, fear clearly visible on her face.

"And I thought it was one of you. Perhaps it was the wind?" Rachel said, relaxing slightly.

Another scream answered her before either girl could.

Stacy froze, then burst into tears. Between sobs, she managed to say, "That sounds like Stevie!"

"I'm sure that's impossible, Stacy." Rachel said, looking out the direction of the gate, before wrapping her free arm around Stacy. She'd never had a sibling; likely _would_ never have a sibling, even if her and Blaine had gotten closer with the shared care of Dahlia, she wouldn't wish to presume such a bond with him. So she wasn't sure if one child could even recognize their sibling's screams.

"It is, Rachel do _something,_" Stacy sobbed, pulling away from her. Rachel looked at Stacy helplessly, then at Sarah.

Biting her lip, Sarah shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself, one rolled sleeve on the plaid over shirt she was wearing a sweater coming unrolled, "It wouldn't hurt to look outside?"

Rachel sincerely doubted she'd see anything, not unless Stevie had a source of light. It was simply preposterous that Stevie would be out by himself. Santana wouldn't be so foolish.

Of course, if she and the other children were dead, then Stevie could have taken a chance on his own.

"Rachel!" Her name, desperately screamed sent a shudder of fear through her. It was definitely one of their own at the least.

Quickly, she picked up her hatchet from where she'd left it, and gently said, "I will save him Stacy." as she stepped away, adding, quite uselessly, since Sarah definitely understood how important it was, "Sarah, keep the fire going."

What if he was bit? What if she'd have to put down a child? Or worse, what if _he_ bit _her_? Holding her candle high to give herself the most light possible, she hurried out of the covered area, shivering in the cold air. She made her way as fast as she dared go through the snow, already regretting being without her blanket. With cold fingers, she undid the bungee cord that was keeping the gate closed, and after stepping through, loosely re-closed the gate, torn between wanting a quick entrance back into the lumber yard, and wanting to ensure nothing snuck in to attack the children while she was elsewhere.

She turned as the voice screamed again, desperately. She could see a small light; quite obviously the kind one would have on their key-chain. Almost utterly useless, it barely illuminated a small, bundled figure and several larger figures around the small one as the smaller figure desperately tried to get away, hampered the snow, fear, and what looked like a limp.

Off to the side, another figure stood and watched.

She darted forward, protectively covering her candle so it wouldn't blow out. When she was a few feet from the figures, she set it down, and readied her hatchet, wishing yet again for her rifle.

The small figure slipped in the snow, scrambling backwards from the closest zombie. "Stevie?" She called out as she raced towards him, trying to turn the zombie attention to herself, and away from Stevie.

The zombie closest to him had to have at least a foot of height on her. She simply wouldn't have enough leverage to kill it quickly and move on to the next zombie.

She brought the hatchet down on the back of the zombie's leg as it shambled towards Stevie. It fell, and started crawling through the snow towards him.

Making a snap decision she sprinted from the crawling zombie towards the next closest, veering around it to once more bring the hatchet down on the back of its legs, making the zombie fall forward, arms grasping uselessly towards her.

She brought the hatchet down on its head, afterwards, having to use one foot to brace against the zombie's unmoving body when the hatchet got stuck.

Stevie was making a high pitched, desperate keening noise as he scrambled backwards as fast as he could, which, unfortunately, was not very fast. Fortunately, the crawling zombie was at least two feet away from him, and the boy was just out of reach of the undead hands. Rachel stomped quickly towards it, and ended its undead life.

She took a deep breath, then turned towards the remaining two zombies.

The one far off to the side was still standing still, watching. Almost like a cat watching another cat play with a mouse, she thought sickly, then pushed that thought away as asinine and utterly ridiculous.

The other was coming towards where she stood next to Stevie as quickly as it could through the snow. She was debating whether they should quickly go back to the safe area and she'd deal with these two zombies in the morning, when she heard a low, unnatural growl come from the zombie standing still.

Then a whooshing noise, and it landed on her, heavy weight pinning her into the snow.

It went for her throat.

The zombie had at least a foot of height on her, and many pounds of zombie flesh.

It was simply luck, although when relaying this story later she would call it instinct, that made her turn her hatchet up as it landed, and thus barely keeping its teeth from meeting her flesh as the hatchet stuck in the zombie's throat and collar bone area.

She struggled, and kicked at it the best she could, even kneeing it in its groin which had no effect on the zombie whatsoever.

"Get off of her!" Stevie's sobbing voice cried out, and he grabbed the zombies hair and pulled. The zombie didn't move very far backwards, no more than a few inches, but it was enough for Rachel to wiggle her legs in, and use her lower body strength in addition to her tiring arms to push the zombie back, pulling her hatchet free from it's flesh as she did so.

It landed back-side down on Stevie.

She rolled out of the snow as quickly as she could, and brought the hatchet down on the zombie's snarling face. Again and again, until she was finally sure it was dead.

She dropped that hatchet into the snow so she could use both hands to roll the zombie off Stevie.

He's sunk into the snow, and besides looking even colder and more miserable, _seemed_ fine. With one last glance at him, she picked up her hatchet again, and turned towards the last zombie shambling towards them.

Once more, she ran towards it, veering around to hit it in the back of the legs, then hitting its head once it'd fallen.

She could acutely hear her heart beating as she turned towards Stevie, who was sitting up now.

"Are you in good health?" she asked, dropping the hatchet in the snow next to her, fingers too cold to hold onto it for the moment.

She was covered in gore and blood, and there would be no shower. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could have a warm washcloth to wipe up with, and hopefully her clothing would be salvageable. Stevie's too, she was sure, was as almost as unclean as hers. Sarah was clearly uncomfortable in her borrowed clothing, Rachel would be even more so if it came to that.

Stevie gulped for air, then after several false starts finally said, "I'm okay Rachel. Are you?"

"Yes. You are not injured in _any_ way?"

"I'm really cold. And some parts of me are really really cold, and my ankle hurts, but otherwise I'm alright. I'm not bit; I'm not going to turn into a monster. I promise," he said, his teeth chattering as he struggled to get the words out.

"Then let's get you back to the others, shall we? While they will all be happy to see you, one of them in particular will be exceptionally happy," Rachel felt a tendril of warmth, a pure happiness that will come from seeing the two siblings reunite. It made the risk to herself, and thus to the other children, all worth it. Rachel reached down, and after several seconds of fiddling managed to pick up her hatchet. With her other hand, she grabbed Stevie's and gently pulled him away from the carnage and towards her candle. "Thank you for your bravery, Stevie. Without your help I would have eventually tired and perished."

"I was really scared. I still am," he admitted, "We..I want to see Stacy, I do, but we have to go! We have to go help Santana, she's sick."

Rachel let go of his hand, and turned towards him, holding the candle above his head, casting odd shadows on his face.

"Sick? Santana? Oh…oh no." Santana had certainly never been kind to her, and Rachel was at times sure that if Santana ever decided to resort to cannibalism, Rachel would be her first meal, but Rachel would not wish turning into a zombie on anyone.

Well, perhaps the man that hijacked their vehicle, or his foolish son.

"No, she wasn't bitten. It's…a fever? An infection? We didn't know. But she's sick, and we can't take care of her and Beth, she needs you, _we_ need you," Stevie stood there stubbornly, shivering violently.

"Let's go back to the others, and get warm and safer, I imagine the fight attracted unwanted attention," she said gently, taking a step away from him.

The thought of being warm spurred him to follow her, despite his noble task, limping a bit as he struggled through the snow.

"She was acting a little funny when we woke up, but I dunno, we just assumed it was because we didn't have anything to eat except crackers, but Beth got those, and these gross bar thingies. And tea, but we really couldn't make it that easily since there was no way to heat it. She went to see what she could find in one of the stores, and came back with these nasty scratches on her arm? She started freaking out, and was going to leave. It was almost dark, and had just snowing." Stevie said quietly as Rachel lead him to the lumber yard, his chattering teeth making his speech sound difficult to say, "Then she just passed out? We dragged her from the door and put a blanket on her, but we don't know what else to do. She needs help. She's really sick."

"She was scratched? How long ago?" Rachel did not want to think about going to where they were hiding, and finding zombie Santana munching on Kyle or Beth.

"Hours I guess? But she's not going to turn into one of them, she wasn't bitten. She's _sick,_" Stevie insisted.

Pursing her lips, silently Rachel handed him the candle as she worked at the bungee cord with numb fingers.

"Kyle knows? His dad was scratched really badly, but was fine except he needed bandages and an-ti-sep-tic," Stevie continued when Rachel remained quiet, pronouncing antiseptic slowly. At Rachel's disbelieving look, Stevie insisted, "Kyle says his dad woulda been alright if their neighbor hadn't bit him later."

"Very well. So Santana is _sick._" Rachel wasn't quite sure if she should believe in the children's beliefs that Santana would not turn into a flesh eating monster, but as long as the weather remained clear, she would risk it.

She would not be able to live with herself if she did not try to save Kyle and Beth.

She gestured to Stevie to go through the gate first. He did, and after she stepped through, she tightly redid the bungee cord.

"So what are you going to do?" Stevie whispered as she finished with the cord.

"How did you find our location?" Rachel asked, taking his cold hand into her's and leading him through the snow towards the covered area where the others awaited them.

"She woke up a few times, and would mumble, mostly about Brittany. We kept trying, eventually we got her to tell us what direction she thought you were. Kyle and I played rock paper scissors to see who would go and who would stay." He shivered, and Rachel urged him to go faster. He needed to be out of his wet, fluid covered clothing, "It was really scary, especially when the zombies saw me and started following me. But I saw your fire?" He gestured to the small fire above the bathroom area. "So you're going to go help her? Right?"

"I-" Rachel was cut off by Stacy barreling out of the covered area and hugging her brother. Sobbing, the little girl clung to her brother while he hugged her. She could tell Stevie was crying too, even in the dim light the candle cast, but was trying to be tough about it.

"Let us get him inside and warm him up, " Rachel said gently, pushing the children a bit. She shivered, and looked down at her clothing with a sigh. At least with the snow they had enough water to attempt to keep clean them; in fact, the one benefit to the snow was that they had a large supply of water now.

As Stevie pulled off his soaking clothing, Rachel instructed Sarah to start boiling one of the cans of broth for him to drink. Rachel turned from them, and started pulling off her own clothing to change into something a bit cleaner, numb fingers making it that much more difficult to pull of the wet, gory clothing; there wasn't much, so she was forced into her owl sweater, a tank top, and a plaid over shirt. Thankfully, the tank top was long enough on her that her bottom was covered.

She really wanted a clean pair of underwear.

Once she was dressed, and assured Stevie was just wearing his mostly dry underpants under the blanket he was wrapped around, she warmed her hands by the fire for a moment, then started trying to clean her clothing as best she could. She'd set aside a bucket of snow specifically for whenever she decided to get around to attempting their laundry. The snow had slowly turned into partially melted slushy, and she would use that to try to get her jeans clean, first.

It didn't take long for Stevie to warm up enough to remember the whole point he left to find Rachel.

"Rachel, when are you going to go get Santana?" He said watching Sarah heat up the can of broth with hungry eyes.

"Where exactly are the others located?" Rachel asked, sloshing her jeans up and down in the slush, hoping the bits of ice would help clean them, that'd it be worth subjecting her fingers and hands to such intense cold.

As Stevie answered her rapid questions about Santana, their location, and what supplies they had, Rachel's mind churned along with her hands.

Would it be better to move them to Santana's location, or move Santana and the children to here?

Santana had an actual building.

They had as much fuel for their fire as they could ever wish to have, even if eventually Rachel would have to use the hatchet to make it manageable.

Santana was very ill, if Stevie's answers were accurate, and would be difficult to move here.

On the other hand, it would be far more difficult and dangerous to move five children, even with Santana sick, especially with the snow.

Speaking of the snow, Rachel realized she could hear a pattering on the roof of their covered area.

It was snowing again.

Santana's building was next to a store that would have much needed supplies. But it was snowing, so it would be that much dangerous to move the children to Santana.

She sighed, and pulled her slightly cleaner jeans out of the bucket, laying them on the cement by the fire to hopefully dry.

She held her hands over the fire, the tingling going through them slightly painful as they warmed up.

It was very dark out, and she was very exhausted, so when Stevie asked, "How long until you're leaving Rachel?"

It was quite simple for Rachel to say, "As soon as it is morning and the snow is clear."

"Santana's _sick_, " Stevie said slowly, as if Rachel was dimwitted.

"I know, but it is dark out, snowing again, and the fight no doubt attracted more zombies. It is simply not safe for me to leave at the moment, I am not some foolish child Stevie." Rachel sighed again, closing her eyes and, for a moment, allow to herself the luxury of believing this was all some sort of dream that she would wake up from soon, ready to face down her senior year of high school.

Stevie interrupted her moment, "Fine, _I'll_ go"

"You will _not,_ " Rachel said tiredly, "_I_ shall. In the _morning._ When it is _safe. _We are no longer discussing this." It was, she decided, bed time as soon as Stevie finished the broth Sarah was carefully pouring into a mug for him. The fight with the zombies had zapped her energy, and she very much wanted to go to sleep.

Stevie glared at her, but sat back quietly and drank his broth with a frown.

Didn't he understand she was doing her _best?_ That she was very tired, very scared, and doing the utter best she could given the circumstances. She _always_ did her best no matter the situation.

It was never good enough for her fellow Glee clubbers, and now it was not good enough for Stevie Evans either. Why was she never good enough? When it was just high school, she'd always assumed it was because they were jealous of her being better than them all combined at singing, that Rachel Berry was destined for greater things then the rest of them. But now, now she was starting to wonder if she just had some unfortunate flaw that she couldn't see that made people unable to care for her as she cared for others.

Rachel swallowed the hurt she was feeling, and stood up to where the notebook and pens waited. Grabbing them, her fingers grasped the pen tightly as she sat next to the fire. Sarah handed her a mug a third of the way filled with broth, and nodding her thanks at Sarah, Rachel took it. Normally, she'd protest and insist Stevie drank it all, but she hoped the warm liquid would warm up her insides, and give her enough energy to plan for tomorrow.

She started neatly writing lists of what she'd need to gather at the house tomorrow, the things she'd forgotten and what she'd need, and possible routes given her memories of the area and Stevie's hazy, wild directions, and what she could use to transfer Santana, Beth, Kyle and their things here.

The last one was easy. It had snowed, and likely would continue snowing, so obviously the answer was a sled. It would be rudimentary given the materials at the lumberyard, what she could find at the house, and her building skills but it would be the top choice nonetheless.

The warm liquid flowed through her, warming her up from the inside.

Everything would go well tomorrow, and she_ certainly_ wasn't going to get to the building Stevie had described, and find that Santana had turned into a zombie and ate the children.

She'd never be able to face Quinn again if that happened. She'd be forced to leave them, to be physically _alone,_ to atone for allowing that to happen.

But it _wouldn't. _She was making the right the safest, most logical choice. She was making the _correct_ choice in waiting until it was safe in the morning.

She _was. _

* * *

Quinn picked at her dinner. She just wasn't that hungry; every time she tried to take a bite, all she could do was wonder if Beth had ate. If her friends had ate. So she picked at it, and every now and then took a half hearted bite.

Blaine was rambling at her with whatever he could think about; seemingly unconcerned she wasn't doing much besides muttering an occasionally "yes, "no" or "okay."

"Do you regret killing Shelby. If given the choice, would you go back and do it again?" Blaine interrupted his thoughts on how they would have done at sectionals this year, asking suddenly.

She dropped her spoon, and stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

He winced, and said, "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that. Logically I understand what drove you to do what you did to Shelby, but Kurt was concerned so I was concerned."

"You're right," she shoved the bowl away, "You shouldn't have asked that."

"And certainly not so bluntly. I'm sorry," he apologized again, sincerely. That was the thing about Blaine; he was sincere. A good person.

She wondered if he had what it took to even survive this situation. Hell, did any of them?

He quickly changed the subject to quietly talking about Dahlia hitting developmental milestones as he finished his dinner.

Would she kill anyone again?

She hoped to hell she never had too; she didn't know if she had it in her to know another person died because she made the choice to take their life.

"Is it just me, or is it getting colder?" Blaine finally asked, shoving away his own bowl. When she didn't answer, quietly he added, "I think I'll get Dahlia and some more blankets?"

She shrugged.

With a worried look in his eyes as he gazed at her, finally he stood up and left the bedroom to go back upstairs. She darted a glance at Dahlia, who was sleeping in a dresser drawer, quiet for once. She knew it couldn't be easy on the baby; who probably missed Rachel and the routine they had at the cabin.

She reached a tentative hand down, and brushed Dahlia's hair from her eyes, and turned and looked around the room.

Blaine was right, it was getting colder. She'd sleep in here with him tonight, and hope Dahlia had settled down enough to sleep. Maybe they should move her in-between them when they went to bed, just so she'd be warmer.

She was trying to decide what book would be the less awful to read (the teenager who's room this was had been huge into horror. She was staying away from the Walking Dead comics for obvious reasons) and was in the middle of deciding between a vampire book or a werewolf book, when Blaine came back, his face grave.

"I found more candles, and a lot more blankets," He said, putting the pile of blankets on the bed, then turning to look at her, "The zombies haven't wandered away and" he hesitated before quietly saying, "it's starting to snow."

Quinn had to take several deep breaths as her mind raced. Is her daughter going to freeze to death during the night? Was it going to be the snow that killed their group, not the zombies?

Blaine was gently cooing at her to put her head in-between her knees and take deeper breaths. Mechanically, she flopped on the bed and did so. Her body felt tingly, and panic was spreading.

Several one minutes later, mercifully she regained some semblance of normalcy.

Blaine sat next to her, "They're okay."

She looked at him, "What if they're not?"

"They _are." _He sighed, and ran a hand through his fluffy hair, "I can't allow myself to think otherwise, Quinn. And neither can you."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Blaine gestured towards the blankets, "I thought you could take half, and I'll take half?"

It made Quinn realize just how cold she was. She wrapped her arms around herself, and said, "I figured I'd try sleeping in here with you, if that's okay? And maybe we could put Dahlia in between us to keep her warm."

"Of course it's okay, and that's a great idea, thank you," he stood up, and picked up the sleeping baby, cradling her close, "Do you want to read for a while? There's enough candles now that I think it'd be okay?"

Quinn didn't really care if she read or not, but it'd be better then lying down, trying to stop thinking and start sleeping. She shrugged, and muttered, "Sure. Guess I'll take the vampire book."

"I was thinking of reading The Walking Dead," At Quinn's disbelieving look at him, he added, "Research?" with a smile.

She snorted, "I don't know how a comic book will help, but if that's what you want, go for it."

"Well, research, and Sam was a big fan. I'd like to be able to discuss it with him when we see him again, I think he's lonely without Mike and the other's, " Blaine amended, carefully putting Dahlia in the middle of the bed. She watched him pick up a stack of the comic books, spread out most of the blankets on top of the comforter, and crawl into bed next to his sister after shucking off his shoes.

Quinn smiled faintly, "You're a good guy, Blaine Anderson," she whispered as she crawled into bed on Dahlia's other side, clutching the vampire book.

* * *

Quinn was dreaming of Mack when shaking hands shook her awake.

"Quinn, Quinn," Blaine's panicked voice woke her up. She opened one bleary eye, and glared at him.

"Quinn, I think the zombies broke in," his hushed voice made her sit up straight, and stare at him. A dreadful crashing noise from above them made Quinn sit slack jawed in shock.

"They have, Quinn what are we going to do? Go upstairs and run for it?"

Quinn shoved the covers off of her, the icy air hitting her jean clad legs and making her shiver. Her boots were sitting neatly next to the bed -done by Blaine, since she'd shucked them off and left them laying where they fell. She shoved her feet into her boots, and laced them tightly.

She stood up, and stretched. She turned to him, "We hide down here and wait?"

She was pulling on her hoodie, then her leather jacket, when he finally suggested, "We should think about leaving?"

Quinn zipped up her jacket, and gestured around them, "I dunno. Where do you think we can go?" They were in a basement. The only windows in the room were high up, small enough that they'd have to go one at a time through them, if they were the kind of windows that opened.

Blaine swallowed heavily, "Maybe it was a bad idea to pick the basement."

Quinn shrugged, she whispered "If we keep quiet, maybe they'll go through the whole house and not realize we're down here."

As if fate was mocking her, they heard the tell tale crack of a door. Looking at each other, without a word, they quickly stepped outside of the room, into the rest of the basement, and at the bottom of the stairs.

The door was noticeably cracked.

"Go pack Dahlia's bag!" She snapped at Blaine, then darted to the office. She pulled drawers out of the large desk, shoved the chair aside, and, straining, shoved it as quickly as she could out of the office to the bottom of the stairs.

For good measure, she rushed back to the office, dragged the rolling office chair and tossed it over the desk onto the stairs.

Wasn't good enough, it wasn't going to be enough, she realized. She went back to the office, and tried lugging one of the bookcases. It was too heavy. Taking deep breaths as the panic flowed through her, she went back to the bedroom where Blaine was hastily packing things into Dahlia's bag. The infant herself was swaddled in her blankets, eyes half open, on the bed.

Blaine was trembling as he packed, and his eyes darted back and forth from his task, to his sister, and to Quinn when she entered the room.

Quinn couldn't judge him, even if her rising panic let her have any other emotion; she was shivering too, and not just from the chill in the air.

Without a word, she took an arm, and shoved the books and knickknacks off the first shelf on the book case, then the second, the third, and the last. Blaine winced at the noise, but continued his task as she started dragging the bookcase out of the room and towards the stairs.

It was faster than the desk, at least. Thank goodness whoever lived here hadn't insisted on a real, heavy wood for the teenager's bedroom furniture.

The door splintered again, and she could _hear_ the previously muffled snarls and the growls now. Taking deep breaths, telling herself to breath in and out, that there was no time for being useless, she tipped the bookcase over the desk, and flipped it up behind it.

Weapons, they needed weapons.

She stumbled away from the makeshift barricade, and back into the office. There was a set of golf clubs. She grabbed the thickest headed pair she could fine, and went back to the bedroom.

She closed and locked the door, and turned to Blaine, who was just finishing zipping up the diaper bag.

Silently, together they shoved the dresser in front of the door, and shoved the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed in front of it, and the end table on that for good measure.

They were going to die. Taking deep breaths, Quinn looked at the sleepy baby, then at Blaine. _No._ She wasn't going to let them die. She handed him the golf clubs she'd been clutching, and looked at the windows.

Picking up the cast iron pan that still held the remains of their dinner, cooked on the propane stove in the kitchen, she stood on the bed and tried to reach the window.

Too short. She quickly jumped off the bed, picked up the desk chair, and put it on the bed.

Standing on it, she let out a frustrated growl as she realized it was_ still_ too short.

"The desk," Blaine said, setting the golf clubs down and walking to it. She set the frying pan down on the bed, and picked up the opposite side. They hefted, straining, the desk to the bed and slid it against the headboard. Quinn put the chair on the desk, then climbed up. She climbed back down.

"Grab her, toss a blanket over you both, there's gonna be some glass. Hopefully." She picked up the frying pan, and climbed back on.

After checking that Blaine was a blurry blanket covered form, she took a deep breath, and hit the glass.

It cracked, a little. Cursing the homeowners, she hit it again, harder.

They heard a louder splinter noise outside and panic went through her like a tidal wave.

She hit the window as hard as she could, over and over again until she felt a rush of cold air and bits of snow fall into the room. She smashed out the jagged shards of glass that stood up in the frame.

She had no doubt that in the inky darkness that was outside the window, there were zombies outside, milling around or flowing in one direction into the house.

She jumped down from the chair, bouncing onto the bed. She jumped off the bed, and pulled the comforter off.

There were zombies inside that were the more pressing concern. Hopefully it was all of the zombies, even if that meant they had to be even faster.

Another, much louder crack went through the basement.

She had no doubts the zombies were flowing downstairs. They had minutes, tops.

She quickly climbed back up the desk and chair, and stuffed the comforter around the window frame and outside a bit to protect from the glass as best she could.

"Quinn, you go first. Climb through, I'll hand you Dahlia," Blaine's voice trembled from behind her. She jerkily nodded, not wanting to waste any time arguing, and tossed the pan outside, reached up, and pulled herself through.

Banging was at the bedroom door now.

Her breathing was faster, and shallower now as Blaine shrugged off the blanket, and climbed onto the bed. Carefully, he stood on the desk, and put his sister through into Quinn's arms.

"Blaine, hurry up," Quinn whispered harshly, expecting him to climb through. When he instead jumped off the bed, she snapped, "Blaine, now!" The banging on the bedroom door grew harder, the zombies clearly excited at hearing Quinn's voice.

"She needs her diaper bag. _We_ need her diaper bag," He said, picking it up and neatly placing the stack of still folded blankets over it. He picked up the discarded golf clubs, and then the large, deep candle they had let stay lit while they slept, both from comfort and convenience when Dahlia woke up during the night.

Quinn didn't even want to think about how much time it would have taken to light it if they hadn't left it lit while they slept.

To Quinn, Blaine was agonizingly slow as he climbed back on the bed, desk, and finally the chair.

He handed the diaper bag through first, then set the candle next to Quinn. She stepped backward, giving him some room, dragging the diaper bag away with her foot.

She found herself glancing between the door, and the darkness beyond their candle.

"Blaine hurry," She gasped out desperately, inhaling and exhaling as fast as she could as she watched the bedroom door started to be shoved open.

As Blaine tried to pull himself through the window, but only ending up falling backwards, she could just make out a zombie arm snake through the open door. Blaine scrambled up the bed again, and was climbing onto the desk when the first zombie finished shoving it's way in and headed towards Blaine.

Quinn couldn't breath as she watched it shamble towards Blaine, who was only just now standing on the chair.

In panic, she set Dahlia down, and reached back into the basement. Blaine grabbed her hand, braced himself onto the window frame, and somehow, mercifully, he was outside in the snow with her.

The stood there, watching the room fill with zombies before snow crunching outside the small lighted area reminded them they weren't alone. Who knew what lurked behind the shadows; how many zombies there were that weren't in the house right now.

Quinn picked Dahlia up, clutching the blanketed infant to herself, and grabbed the pan from where she'd set it. Blaine slung the diaper bag on himself, careful not to knock off the blankets, and gripped both golf clubs in one hand, the other holding the candle protectively.

"We're going to have to run," Blaine said evenly.

She had no idea how his voice sounded so calm.

She shrugged, "Pick a direction." She tried to get her tone to lie, to be nonchalant. She was pretty sure he could still hear the tremble, the fear, the panic in her voice.

He laughed weakly, "I…I forgot to put my shoes back on."

"We'll find you more. Soon." She laughed bitterly, as her own realization came to her, "I forgot to grab my contacts." She'd left them, in a little metal tin she'd found, in the nightstand with the intent of not wearing them again until they'd been cleaned with some contact cleaning solution. Last thing she needed was an eye infection, or whatever happened when you wore contacts, _dirty_ contacts, too long.

"We'll find you more. Soon," Blaine parroted back at her, a smile in his voice. She had no idea how he managed it. Blaine added softer, "We'll be okay."

She nodded, "We will. Let's go?"

He nodded, the candle light casting dim shadows on his blurry face. His eyes zipped down to the blanketed bundle in her arms. More crunching snow met their ears. Frowning, he picked a direction, and took off at a light jog, going a little faster when it was obvious Quinn wasn't having any problems keeping up, even with her precious cargo.

The snow swirled around them harder they headed into the darkness, and away from the protective house, their candle flickering weakly despite Blaine's efforts to protect it almost as much as Quinn was trying to protect Dahlia from the snow. It was almost as if mother nature itself wanted Quinn, Blaine, and Dahlia dead.

Maybe she did.

They hadn't gone very far from the house at all when they come across the first zombie in their makeshift path; Blaine dropped the candle, plunging them into total darkness.

And there was nothing that Quinn could do except scramble away from where she'd almost ran into him, she had been following him so closely, and hold Dahlia tighter to her as the sounds of a struggle met her freezing ears.

* * *

**A/N: **

Counting the actual day Matilda and Glory died, and they were all separated as day zero, thus ends day one.

We saw a tiny bit of the super early morning hours of day two with Quinn and Blaine at the end of this chapter, but next chapter will be the proper start of day two.

**Please review and let me know what you think. I rely a lot on reader feedback to make sure the story is in a good direction and it's working, story wise, and it's incredibly hard to write without your feedback!**


	24. Titanium

She clutched Dahlia to her chest as best she could while still maintaining a steely grip on the pan, and trying to ignore the sound of her own chattering teeth, strained in the darkness to hear if Blaine was winning or losing.

And if there were more zombies coming.

There was, of course. Of that, she had no doubts, even if she couldn't see them shambling towards them. The ones outside the house would have immediately zeroed in on them as soon as Quinn had broken the window, and what ones hadn't been paying attention would be as Blaine struggled with the one he was fighting. They had minutes, if that, to get away from the zombies that had been outside around the house.

And now they couldn't even see them.

Not that the really could before; their candle had only cast so much light, and the light had only gone so far through the falling snow.

But it was _something_, and now it was gone.

She badly wanted to ask Blaine how he was doing, if he was bitten, if she was going to be alone with Dahlia with two zombies far too close, one of which had the only thing she had to make sure her last companion stayed alive in it, but she didn't dare just in case she distracted him at a critical moment.

Of course, this was Blaine Anderson. If he was bitten, he'd probably do something noble and heroic like toss her Dahlia's diaper bag then be as loud as possible to lure any nearby zombies away from her and his sister as much as he could before he turned.

Blaine would be the type to doom himself to being a zombie if it meant giving someone else a chance.

Quinn knew she wouldn't be nearly so selfless; with her dying breaths she'd demand Santana and Brittany take care of Beth, that Santana never ever called Beth "Lizard Baby" again, that they told her all about Quinn, and Puck, that Santana be the one to make sure Quinn wasn't one of the shambling masses -but only _after_ Quinn turned.

She'd tell Rachel she was sorry she was too much of a coward in her final breath. And selfish enough to leave the others wondering what she meant, putting it all on Rachel to explain if she wanted to.

Beth. Beth. Beth.

She held Dahlia even tighter to her, to keep as much snow off the blanketed bundle as possible, wishing it was her daughter she was holding. She blinked back tears that mingled with the icy snow swirling around them, and put her head down over the bundle in her arms, shivering violently.

"Quinn?" Blaine's voice called. She lifted her head up, and opened her mouth to ask if he was okay, before closing it.

"Quinn we need to go somewhere, anywhere, and find shelter, please Quinn say something," Blaine's pleading voice came from somewhere to the left of her.

"Blaine?" She rasped out, then repeated herself louder, her chattering teeth mangling his name "Blaine."

He followed the sound of her voice, reaching out with his arms to find her. He gently brushed against her hand, and using that to guide himself, he came to stand next to her.

"I managed to take care of it, but I'm sure there's more coming," Blaine said, tenderly pulling one of the blankets over her, "It's good you grabbed two golf clubs, Quinn, if I only had one..."

The blanket over her head and around her shoulders made her feel more secure, if not a tiny bit warmer.

"We've got to go, I don't think I'll be able to light another candle in this, so.." Blaine trailed off, leaning close next to her protectively.

"How…how are we going to find another place, in the _dark_, in a snow_storm_, with who knows how many zombies lurking?" She managed to spit out at him, tugging the blanket as best she could over Dahlia and herself,, "You don't even have _shoes_."

"I've got socks, that'll be fine if we can find another house soon. You hold onto my shirt, and I'll lead us using the golf clubs to make sure we don't run into anything."

Loosely, she reached out to grip his shirt, almost tempted to drop the pan, but settling for readjusting her grip on it so she could hold onto his shirt and the pan as best she could.

He took her hand, and guided it to his shirt.

"Ready?" He asked.

"No."

"Me either." She couldn't see his face, but she was sure he was giving her his best smile, "Come on."

He lead her forward.

Each step, even with Blaine leading the way, felt like she was walking through jello. Freezing cold, icy, jello.

And that was just the snow on the ground; the snow that was falling, bustling around them, pelting their faces, was worse. At least they were walking with the wind, instead of against it. That was likely why Blaine picked this direction.

* * *

They hadn't moved very far, even though it seemed to take forever to get there, before Blaine said, "There's a building here."

"Find the door, please," She managed to say, teeth chattering.

Quinn's legs felt shaky and weak, and she felt like she was going to collapse if they didn't get inside the building, soon, now.

Blaine was moving slowly along the wall, feeling for a door.

Finally, he said, "Found the door," then added a moment later, "It's locked."

"That's…that's _good._ Means there's probably no zombies inside?" Quinn said, hugging Dahlia closer.

"I'll find a window, it'll be okay," Blaine promised sounding sure. And she had no doubts Blaine would climb break a window, and climb through the shattered glass to get his sister inside- Quinn too, since that's the type of guy Blaine Anderson is.

It didn't take him long to find a window, but opening it was another matter entirely.

"Got it, I'll go in and unlock the door," Blaine finally said.

"Be…be careful," She said, letting go of his shirt, her fingers numb and sore.

He stepped away from her, and she'd never felt so alone before until finally, he opened the door, candle in his hands casting wavy light on her.

The first thing she noticed as she stepped through the doorway was the blurry red stained socks Blaine was wearing. The second thing was that they were in a trailer. A small trailer. The third thing was the almost over whelming stench of cigarettes.

"Blaine, your feet,"

"I must have cut them on the glass, I'll find some shoes and dry socks."

"While you're at it, find some car keys and a car," Quinn said dryly.

"How are you? And Dahlia?"

"Freezing. And fine, I think. Here -I'm going to make us something warm, you take her." She handed the bundle of baby to Blaine, and took several shaky steps towards the small kitchen area, letting the soaked blanket and freezing pan drop to the floor as she walked. She had blisters on her hand from the pan? And the cold? She wasn't sure.

Her arms and hands were cramping from being held that way for so long in the cold, and wincing, she stretched them out as she walked to the stove, thankful to see it was propane.

"Blaine, toss me some matches?" She said, turning to see Blaine doting on his sister.

He rummaged through the diaper bag, and tossed a pack at her. She fumbled the catch, and dropped them. She picked them up with her cold fingers, and looked at Blaine. "How is she?"

"The outer blanket is soaked, but she's not too cold or anything. Thank you Quinn."

"You don't have to thank me for making sure your sister didn't freeze to death Blaine," Quinn stated flatly, lighting the first burner, then the other three.

The bit of light and heat in the kitchen, provided by the stove, were welcome. She held her hands over a burner, warming them as Blaine came up next to her, holding a free of most of her blankets Dahlia, who was still wearing her little hat and the rest of her clothing . All three of them stood there, letting the chill leave them as the older two thawed out.

Finally, Quinn said, loath to leave the stove, "We should search, see if there's anything we could use. Like shoes."

Blaine nodded, and handed her an unlit candle that she quickly lit.

Quinn held the candle high as she went into the largest bedroom, frowning at the rumpled bed and dirty sheets. Setting the candle on the cluttered night stand, she pocketed the lighter that sat next to a mostly empty pack of cigarettes, then started rummaging through the closet, her breath showing visibly in the chilly air.

The first thing she saw was a pair of broken in boots. She picked them up by the laces, and tossed them onto the bed for Blaine. There was a heavy looking leather coat hanging in the closest that she pulled out and tossed on the bed as well. As well as a large, heavy sweatshirt with a football team logo on it that she pulled on after shrugging off her leather jacket and tossing it on the bed.

There wasn't much else worth looking at in the closet, so she moved to the dresser, quickly grabbing several pairs of socks; for Blaine, and for both their hands when they left in the morning. She picked up the flat sheet on the bed and put the jackets, boots, and socks on it, then dragged the bundle into the kitchen where Blaine was changing Dahlia.

"I started some water boiling; all of the water I packed was frozen; it'll be nice to have something warm in us and to give Dahlia a bottle anyway," Blaine said, pausing to look at Quinn.

Quinn dropped the bundle on the floor, and pulled out her coat, setting it on a chair to dry. "Found you a jacket, and some boots."

"I found some hydrogen peroxide in the bathroom along with some bandages, do you mind?" He gestured awkwardly at his feet.

"Sit down when you're done with your sister," she said, then nodded, "I'm going to use the bathroom."

It was noticeable when she left the slightly less cold kitchen to the freezing bathroom; but once her bladder was relieved, she felt a little better; a little more in control, a little more at ease.

She grabbed the hydrogen peroxide, and box of bandages and a musty looking towel hanging on a towel rack, then headed back into the kitchen.

Blaine was feeding a redressed Dahlia a bottle, and when he saw Quinn, he sat down in a chair. She dragged the other chair next to him, and in the candle light, set about taking care of his feet.

She cringed when she saw how icy and wet his socks were; it was a chore pulling them off, and after a few frustrating moments she resorted to cutting them off with a pair of scissors found in the dreary living room.

Blaine's feet were cut up pretty badly.

Not, she decided, enough to need stitches. Probably.

And the socks seemed to have kept _most_ of the glass out of his feet. She still had to pry a few small pieces out with her nails, though. She hoped she'd gotten them all.

Once she was satisfied she probably had all the glass out of his feet, she liberally poured more hydrogen peroxide on them (making Blaine wince) until the bottle was only half full. She gave it a minute to work, while she watched Blaine burp his sister, who yawned contentedly. Dahlia's eyes started to flutter, and Blaine smiled down at his sister.

Quinn toweled his feet off, then stuck the bandages all over they were needed. Then she pulled on two pairs of socks onto his feet; both for warmth, and cushioning.

She stood up, and silently put the box and bottle in the diaper bag, then grabbed two mugs from a cupboard, and poured them both a cup of hot water.

They sat and drank the first cup silently.

Once they were done, Quinn stood up to start searching the kitchen drawers, while Blaine rewrapped his sleeping sister up in her blankets, putting one found on the couch on her in place of the still soaking wet one. Then he pulled on the heavy leather coat, taking off his sodden wool one and hanging it on a chair, and then pulls the boots with a content sigh, taking the time to tighten and tie the laces properly.

He stuffs a pair of socks into the coat pocket, then tosses the last pair on the table next to the chair Quinn's coat is drying on.

She found another lighter, and a flashlight that's dim -clearly the batteries are almost done, but it's still better then candles. She's disappointed to find the cupboards don't contain much of any use. A few cans of soup that she opens and mixes together to start heating up, and a small bag of half gone rice that she sighs when she sees, but still adds it to the diaper bag.

"I think," Blaine breaks the silence, "I can use this sheet to make a sling for Dahlia? To keep her closer, and free up your arm. Or my arm, I didn't mean to presume who'd be carrying her in the morning." He adds quickly, as if he noticeably upset her.

She shrugs, "I don't mind carrying her, we should probably take turns." She stirs the soup, as he starts fiddling with the sheet. She had no idea how to turn it into a passable sling, and hopes he does; that Dahlia wasn't going to fall from them while they were running because Blaine didn't know how to tie a knot or some other dumb reason that would cause a senseless loss of life.

When the soup starts a slow boil she takes it off the heat, and pours it into some bowls and brings them to the table.

They eat quietly, and when they're done, Blaine thanks her. She nods.

They're still too cold, there's too much adrenaline, to sleep, but she's eyeing the smaller bedroom door, hoping it's cleaner inside then the master bedroom; they could pull the mattress out, put it on the kitchen floor near the burners.

She's contemplating whether she should sleep with her boots on, or off, when they hear a noise that freezes her in place.

A splintering door.

In tune, they both look at the front door Quinn came in, to see dark figures at the window.

"No," she gasps.

Wide eyed, Blaine starts to stand up as he looks at her, "They…must have followed us?"

Frustration welled through Quinn, "They're walking corpses. They should be frozen solid by now. Not to mention rotting!" She stands up, and grabs her leather jacket, zipping it around Dahlia and her blankets. That'd keep the wetness from the baby, hopefully.

Blaine hands her the sling, since, she assumes, she's already holding the baby, and she pulls it on, placing the infant securely inside. "This isn't a movie," she adds grumpily, irritated at the injustice of it all. At least this time they had a bit more time before they fled. And they had a hot meal, that helped.

Hoping Blaine's knots hold up, she grabbed the pair of socks still on the table and pulled them on her hands, frowning at the stains on them.

Blaine was busy gathering things back into the diaper bag, and when he finally finished with the last candle, blowing it out and putting the still molten waxy candle into a side pocket, he pulled his still wet coat on over the jacket Quinn found. It looked tight and uncomfortable, but it'd keep him warm and that's what mattered. Quinn pulled the hood up on her hoodie, annoyed at herself for not thinking of it before, then Blaine helped her pull on the blanket, securing it as best they could. She grabbed her frying pan, then helped Blaine with the other blanket worn as Quinn was wearing hers, then they used Dahlia's wet outer blanket as a makeshift scarf to maybe keep Blaine a little warmer, and to help keep his blanket on him.

Blaine grabbed his golf clubs in one hand, then the flashlight. He turned it on; obviously as unhappy as Quinn with how dim it was, then turned the burners on the stove off.

It felt more real, loosing that warm comforting heat and light source, and Quinn blinked back tears as Blaine lead her through the kitchen and out the back door, back into the falling snow.

There was one zombie lurking, and they ran past it, not even bothering to kill it; they both wanted some distance from the zombies that were apparently following them.

That's how it went all night. Running. Hiding. Shivering. Freezing. Every time they found a place it was safe to stop for a moment, they'd check on Dahlia, help each other adjust their blankets, take a few sips of water from the bottle Blaine had shoved in his jacket to warm up so they could drink, and just catch their breaths.

**The zombies were unrelenting. **They never tired, they never froze, and they hungered.

Quinn had no idea how they zombies hadn't froze. They should be rotting, they should be frozen, and they shouldn't be following them.

The only saving grace they had; the only reason the zombies hadn't ate them, was that the undead were slower than normal; Blaine was hopeful they'd freeze soon, but Quinn figured if they were going to, they would have already.

Quinn was cold, exhausted, and _hungry._ She felt weak; every time it was her turn to carry Dahlia, she felt like the infant was sucking away whatever warmth and energy Quinn had left.

Soon, the sun was sending tendrils of light up into the sky.

They'd been on the run all night, just about.

They'd stopped attempting to talk hours ago, their chattering teeth making it too difficult to bother with the few words they'd needed to say.

There was enough light to see now, that Quinn switched off the flashlight, and then she turned around, stopping briefly just to see the group of zombies that had been doggedly following them throughout the night.

The group of zombies following them were blurry, and hard to see through the falling snow. Even then, what she could see made Quinn shiver -not from cold, for once, but from _fear._

There were dozens of them.

Too many; Quinn and Blaine would never be able to fight them off with just a golf club (Blaine had broken one, and tossed it, during one of the times they'd came across a zombie they couldn't avoid) and a cast iron skillet.

She realized they'd gone the wrong way; away from town, and _houses_ and towards the outskirts of town and _nothing_ for miles.

The last building they'd found had been an hour or so after they'd left the trailer; it had been a shed. That was it.

And that had been ages ago.

There had to be a house somewhere in their path, she too told herself, turning back and forcing herself to run -the snow slowing her down as she trudged through it, to catch up to Blaine. Or another shed, or some abandoned hunting cabin. Somewhere they can rest and eat something and wait out the snow (surely it had to stop snowing soon) and hide from the zombies following them._ Something._

They trudged along; Quinn had no idea how long, exactly, but around the time the sun was totally up, Blaine stops. Smiling, he turned around and looked at Quinn, and said, "There's a house up ahead."

She managed a weak smile in return, and forced herself to catch up to him. Together, they waded through the snow, feet sinking deep into it. It took so much energy to pull her feet out of the deep snow, and take another step forward; she was so exhausted. Her jeans were soaked, and she barely remembered what it was like to not be shivering constantly.

Each step brought them closer to the house, until finally even Quinn could see it clearly.

"Damn it." She spat, disappointment flowing through her.

"We can still get inside, perhaps hide out on the second floor," Blaine tried to be optimistic as they trudged through the snow to the porch, "At the least we could get a few minutes to rest, perhaps try to make a fire?"

The house looked like it'd been abandoned years ago; the front door stood open, only hanging by one hinge and covered in peeling paint that had at one point been a nice green color, but was now mostly faded away. The windows next to the front door were full of cobwebs, and cracked in many places, pebbles littered the porch floor near the windows.

"We should go back the way we came," Quinn said softly, stepping onto the porch gratefully, glad to be out of the snow at least, "This is probably the last house for a while."

"I…I don't know." Blaine said, looking down at his sister, then at Quinn, "If we can totally avoid those things then it sounds like a good idea….if not…" he trailed off, before looking down at the porch. "Be careful, it's probably rotted in places."

She jerkily nodded, the cold and her exhaustion making her clumsy as she stepped into the house.

Most of the second floor was sitting in front of her.

"So much for trying the second floor," she said as Blaine joined her.

He sighed. "Maybe we could use some of the…debris to block the doorway and…start a fire? As long as were indoors and can build a fire, we should be okay."

She shook her head, "There's too many of them, no way we'd be safe for very long. But…maybe long enough to rest? Blaine, I…I don't know. She's your sister, do you want to risk not being able to get away?"

He swallowed harshly, "I don't know how much longer I can go on, Quinn. I'm so tired." He looked like admitting that had been the equivalent of an adult coarsely telling a small child that Santa wasn't real. She smiled wryly; Blaine Anderson wasn't Superman, he was human after all.

"You'll find the energy. We both will." She sighed, and set down her pan to start looking at the debris, turning on the flashlight after a moment to make it easier to find pieces to block the door.

Counting on Blaine to watch her back…and how unexpected was that, she never thought she'd trust Blaine that much, what a difference on horrible night made, she started lugging a piece of subfloor towards the door when Blaine let out a harsh, "Quinn!"

She immediately dropped the wood, grabbed her cast iron pan, and shone the light towards him.

"No, Quinn, I'm sorry, it's okay," he smiled guiltily, "I saw the backyard. It's got a fence, and there's a tree house. And I was thinking perhaps we could there?"

Taking deep breaths, she nodded. A tree house would be better than this, the dust alone would probably kill them faster than the zombies.

Even knowing that zombies would soon be upon them, they took their time making their way through the debris to the backdoor; last thing they needed was falling on a nail or something.

Finally, they stood on the back porch staring at the tree house.

"I can't see…but that looks way better then the house?" Quinn offered, gritting her teeth to keep from chattering it. It was mostly a huge blur to Quinn since she didn't have her contacts, but the wood, from what she could tell, looked better then the house.

"It does. It looks a lot newer. Oh, there's a sign. Can you read the sign?" Blaine said, excitement evident in his voice.

"No, what's it say?" Quinn asked, tugging the back door closed after locking the ancient doorknob from the inside.

"Some kids in town built it, recently, with their dads, in memory of one of their friend's?" Blaine continued animatedly, "So it's likely not going to fall down around us."

Quinn shrugged, "Good." She wondered why it was in the backyard of an abandoned house; maybe one of the families owned the house or something. Whatever. She pulled a rocking chair that was missing a leg and a rocker in front of the door, then gestured to Blaine to go first. He lead the way to the tree house, narrowly avoiding a small man made pond that looked as new as Blaine said the tree house was.

He shook his head, "Climb up first, and I'll put Dahlia in the bucket," he nodded to the plastic bucket tied to a pulley system Quinn hadn't seen until he pointed it out first, "and pull her up to you. Or I'll carefully climb up and hand her to you, if it doesn't seem stable."

"Just about my turn to carry her anyway," Quinn offered as she handed him the flashlight, and strung her pan onto the diaper bag through one of the straps, tying it loosely. She pulled the blanket off, and stuffed in over the diaper bag, wincing at the sudden onslaught of cold.

She climbed up the ladder partway, then had to stop and rest. It was hard, with the cold, the wooden rungs was slippery, and her fingers were numb, and she was so very tired, and rope ladders in general were a pain to use in the best of times.

But soon, she shoved the trapdoor open, pulled herself through the cutout in the floor, and stood triumphant on the small railed porch. There was a small window next to the door, and even the roof was tar papered.

Whoever had built the tree house had clearly put care, time, effort, and money into it.

She leaned over the side, and called down to Blaine, "You should hurry up."

"Yeah…I know," Blaine poked at the plastic bucket, "I think it'll be fine to climb up the ladder with Dahlia. It'll be fine, right?" He anxiously asked.

"Maybe double check the sheet's knots are tight? It's been…however long it's been," Quinn called down. She waited a moment, but Blaine started climbing the ladder excruciatingly slow, so she figured she had a minute to see how sad and depressing the inside probably was -even though a part of her wondered if it'd be as nice as the outside, she was going to open the door expecting the worse.

She pulled open the door, and the zombie lunged at her.

Gasping, she gripped the pan and dodged to the side instinctively. It twisted and turned towards her, arms outstretched, low growls coming from it.

She was pretty sure it was one of the kids that had helped build the tree house. The thought made her sick, but it didn't stop her from slamming the pan into its head with one hand, while she used the arm of the other to keep it off her throat.

It fell to the porch, and she prodded it with her toe to make sure it was dead, then hit it a few more times with the pan to make sure.

"Quinn?" Blaine's voice called tiredly from below her.

"One was in the tree house. I'm fine." She said, frowning at it, then added, "It'll have to wait until you get up here to toss it down, I don't think I'm strong enough to right now."

"I'm glad you're okay," he called.

She managed to not roll her eyes, but mostly from exhaustion.

She stepped past the child zombie's body and opened the trap door, peering down at Blaine who was gripping the rope ladder tightly, and moving so slow she grit her teeth in annoyance; he wasn't even half way. She darted her eyes from him and to the ladder, trying to judge when she'd be able to reach down and safely pick up Dahlia, but at the rate he was going it would be noon, when Blaine sighed stepped, almost slipped, down the few rungs he was up into the snow.

"Blaine?" She asked, all annoyance fading from her in concerned.

"Can you climb back down and collect Dahlia? I'm afraid I…I just need a minute to rest before I attempt the climb up again, and I feel as though it'd be easier for me without my sister? I'm sor-"

"I swear to God Blaine, if you apologize to me for being tired I'm going to slap Kurt when we see him." She grumped out, already crutching down to go through the trap door. It'd be easier without the bulk of the diaper bag, but she didn't dare leave it up here just in case they had to leave quickly.

In answer, she heard nothing but the whirling snow, and the slightly quieter sound of crunching snow. Later she'd embellish the story and swear she heard a faint, sharp intake of breath too.

"Blaine?" She climbed down through the trap door as quick as she could, turned to look at Blaine.

He was standing stock still at the zombie stuck in the pond a mere few feet away from him, mouth open in horror.

Quinn realized that it was one of the zombies that had killed Matilda and Gloria.

It must have been trailing them all night, and had finally caught up to them, then jumped the fence around the backyard, landing near Blaine, in the frozen over pond.

Quinn was suddenly grateful for the snow; even though there was a few times during the night she'd been sure it'd kill them, without it the super zombie or whatever it was would have killed them quickly. Or Blaine and Dahlia, just now, if it hadn't slipped.

She jumped down and out, trying to get as close to Blaine as possible, heedless of the fact that she was at least eight feet off the ground when she jumped.

The snow broke her fall, even if she still felt a painful twinge in her injured ankle that had been on the mend, before all the running and flee she'd been doing lately.

She landed close enough to Blaine that after taking precious seconds to pull herself out of the snow that she ran to the still struggling to stand up zombie, stayed out of the pond, and smashed it's head in with the pan.

And again. And then one more time, just to be absolutely sure.

She stood there, snow swirling around her, staring at the zombie's shoes -high heels. Cute for autumn, absolutely useless in snow and icy surfaces. She couldn't grasp how the zombie was still wearing them; how one hadn't broke, or slid off, or weren't ripped off by the zombies themselves -weren't the super zombies smart enough to realize their footwear might make things harder for them? Or did their functions not really allow them to think beyond basic 'get meat'?

Quinn wasn't a scientist.

And really, she didn't care. The zombie hadn't been smart enough, apparently, and she was grateful.

"Quinn? Thank yo-" At her look, Blaine didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he gave a weak laugh, "Well, at least the adrenalin has given me some strength."

"Let's get up there before the rest find us." Quinn mumbled.

It took Blaine longer then Quinn would have preferred, but once she'd taken Dahlia and pitched his golf club up to the tree house, he managed to climb up.

It gave Quinn some time to stop trembling and take some deep, icy cold breaths, her face wound stinging in the icy air, while she watched him climb, clutching Dahlia and the pan to her.

Finally it was her turn to climb up, carefully, with Dahlia.

The zombie kid had apparently came to the tree house to hide out.

"He was smart enough to realize he was probably going to be here a while, but not smart enough to realize he was going to die once he got bit?" Quinn stated flatly.

"Perhaps he thought zombies was something he'd only see in movies, and this was just an excuse to hang out in the tree house while the adults worried?" Blaine said following close behind her, holding his sister again.

They'd tossed the kid's body over the side, where it landed next to the one Quinn had killed. Blaine had pointed out the neatly bandaged bit mark on the arm before they'd tossed it.

Quinn stopped short, and took in the supplies the kid had brought up to his tree house. She'd been shocked when they'd came in here to quickly put Dahlia down so they could toss the kid's body, and even now she still wasn't sure she wasn't stuck in the snow somewhere, slowly freezing to death.

"What kind of parent would let their kid take a camp stove and a propane tank into a tree house," Quinn said, staring at said camp stove and propane tank. Single burner, fifteen gallons. She tried to do the math to see how long that'd last them, but gave up quickly; she was just too tired.

"One who was going to join him? Maybe?" Blaine pointed to the second sleeping bag still rolled up in a corner.

"I'm going to make us some hot chocolate." Quinn stated in answer, eyeing the various boxes of food stuff, her stomach waking up and growling in anger.

"Good idea…I think I'll light some candles, and check Dahlia over. Change her diaper. And perhaps cover the windows."

There was a window in addition to the one next to the door. This one took up almost one entire wall.

They busied themselves getting comfortable, and after the water for Dahlia's bottle and their hot chocolate was started, Quinn even took off her boots, wiggled off her jeans, and removed her wet outer layers, ending up in just her underwear, and a blanket wrapped around her. The zombie kid's clothes wouldn't fit either of them, well, the socks would, so Quinn pulled on a couple pairs of them, tossing two pairs near Blaine along with another blanket. Probably Quinn could squeeze into some of the t-shirts, too, but at this point she was beyond caring about her boobs being seen. It was no different than the Cheerio's locker room to her anyway.

She looked down at Dahlia, who stared back at her with wide eyes. Quinn was pretty sure it was the sheer tiredness that was making her imagine Dahlia was eyeing her tits speculatively.

"She seems fine?" She said, turning away from him while Blaine started pulling off his own clothes.

"She needed changing, and your coat really helped, thank you."

She sighed visibly, then yawned, and set about zipping up the two sleeping bags together, propping the pillows up, and setting the blankets inside the sleeping bag. Her fingers, still numb, make it difficult and awkward. She used their damp blankets to over the windows, frowning at the camp stove the sliding the small window next to the door open a few inches before she covered it.

The snow seemed like it was battering the roof of the tree house harder now, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her.

Once Blaine was free of his wet, cold clothing (Quinn had to help him at a couple of points) and the water was boiled, he made Dahlia's bottle while Quinn made their hot chocolate. She set the mugs on a box full of canned goods after shoving the box near the sleeping bag as a makeshift table, then crawled into the sleeping bag, then under the blankets.

She sipped her hot chocolate, the warm liquid flowing through her.

Soon, Blaine joined her, putting his sister in between them and double checking the still on camp stove was on, and away from anything that it might set on fire.

The zombies would catch up to them soon, they both knew.

They were too high up for the zombies to reach, and they were unlikely to find anything better than this.

They were too exhausted to keep going anyway, and their luck was bound to run out if they kept going; something could happen to Dahlia -one of them could slip carrying her and she'd fall into the snow after her blankets unrolled and they'd have no way to warm her.

Quinn hand's ached, holding the warm mug, the blisters were especially painful. Her face was so cold, the steam felt weird on it, and she wondered how her cut was holding up. The cold was going to make it heal weird, and scar worse or something.

They laid there in silence, having run out of words hours ago. Casual conversation was just too much work at the moment.

Once Quinn was done with her drink, she shoved the mug away, and curled up under the blankets.

She was asleep in mere minutes.

* * *

Brittany peaked out the window, closed the curtain and crawled back into the fort as she said "It's still snowing."

Kurt, looking haggard, nodded, then closed his eyes. It was the twenty-third time she'd done that today.

She was annoying him on purpose; it's what he got for being mean yesterday.

And this way she wouldn't tell Santana and Blaine he called her stupid, so he was avoiding Santana's punishment, so she was doing him a favor.

Plus she was kinda bored, scared, and really cold.

They'd used the blankets, couch cushions, mattresses, pillows and chairs to make a fort in the kitchen. That, wearing all the clothes they could wear, and leaving the stove's burners on were keeping them from being as cold as the snow outside. Her nose was awfully cold, and leaving their fort made them shiver, but it wasn't that bad. Well, it wasn't that comfortable and Kurt keep looking down at the motley collection of clothing he was wearing with a frown, then catching himself being concerned with something as silly as fashion right now.

She wondered if Lord Tubbington was warm without his sweater.

Thinking about her cat was a lot easier then thinking about her sister.

She hoped it'd stop snowing soon so they could go looking for the others, or more blankets or more food.

At least they could boil snow and drink that.

"Kurt?"

She hoped her sister was warm.

"I know Brittany, it's _still_ snowing."

"No, I mean, you stopped talking about car machines before you could explain transmissions?"

He sighed, then mumbled something under his breath, before saying, "Engines, Brittany. Car _engines." _He sighed, "the transmission is one of the most important parts of a car. It sends power to the wheels…"

As Kurt started explaining the ins and outs of transmissions, and how to fix what problems could come up, she listened intently, her brain soaking up the information as well as it had when he'd explained breaks, fuel systems, and the difference between diesel and gasoline. She was just happy to get him talking about something; she'd tried fashion first, asking him what designers he'd thought were still alive and if they were designed zombie fashions, but that'd just made him sadder. Cars, though, were a safe topic. Still listening intently, her mind wandered, remembering when her parents let her see Tiffany for the first time. Her sister had been so tiny and new. Brittany had loved her from the moment she'd seen her bundled in a purple blanket Brittany had knitted especially for her.

She sworn to her mother, as serious as any almost thirteen year old had ever been, that she'd always take care of her sister.

Her mother had laughed tiredly, and said that of course she and Brittany's father would take care of them both.

Brittany had believed her; her mother was _never_ wrong. Until now, anyway.

"Brittany? Are you okay?" Kurt opened his eyes, and looked at her. He laughed bitterly, "Well, you know what I mean," he gestured at the inside of their fort.

"I'm confused. So the transmission makes the wheels move? Then why do we need gas?"

She missed her parents.

Kurt started prattling seriously on and on, showing more life now then he had in a while, and she listened to him, wondering how different things would be if her parents were still alive.

* * *

She stood on the porch, breathing in the cold air, her stomach in knots as she watched the snow fall.

She was nearly ready to leave the house. It had been a few hours since she'd tentatively left the lumber yard, children staring after her as she'd headed into the falling snow, dragging the lumber for the sled with her, numerous warnings and requests and strict orders still ringing in their ears, as Rachel had near constantly spoken to them, raw with worry that'd they'd freeze, or waste the food, or set the lumber yard on fire, or one of them would get injured, the fire would go out and they'd freeze.

And not to mention the fear she had about simply going into the snow -she could easily get lost, or frostbitten. Her only consolation was that the zombies, at least, would be frozen solid and thus not a concern. Which certainly took a weight off her shoulders.

It had taken much much longer than before to get to the house. It had taken her three times as long, by her best guess, to build the sled using hammer and nails found in the house. It was…well, it would certainly not be an A, or even a C grade project if she had made it as a school project, but it _would_ be serviceable to get to Santana and the children, and take them back as well as what supplies she could gather.

There was many things they needed -more pots, soap, the grill rack from the BBQ that she'd made a list during the long night, intent on not forgetting anything this time. And of course, food, and medicine.

Food and medicine were the most important; the snow was already knee deep on her, and Rachel's sixth sense was telling her it wasn't going to stop falling any time soon.

The thought terrified her- they would be fine, assuming she found medicine for Santana and a bit more food for them all (she was confidant she could make what they have stretch), but the others? She could only hope they stayed warm and watered until the snow stopped long enough for…for what, she wasn't sure, just that somehow they would meet up again and leave this town to someplace they could be together, safe, and warm.

She'd been awake for most of the night, it felt like. She'd kept the fire going, hacked at the wood with the hatchet to ensure they would have enough while she was gone, taken care of Chris and the other children, made her list, and subsequently, had only brief cat naps throughout the night.

She shivered, Noah's jacket, borrowed from Sarah, was not enough to keep her warm, even with her sweater and two of the plaid over shirts. Her jeans felt paper thin in the cold, and they were still soaked from her trek to the house.

The thought of trekking through that; pulling a sled and attempting to find Santana's hideout scared her. She was very fearful of getting lost, out in the blinding white snow.

She did not allow herself to think about what would happen if the boys were wrong, and Santana had turned into a zombie.

The first thing she'd done after pulling the wood onto the porch, was collect the bags and bedding that littered the living room, wincing at the feel of frozen blood and gore on her hands, and careful not to slip on the frozen muck on the floor, extremely grateful for the boots she was wearing.

She had taken everything to the master bedroom, and placed the bedding on the stripped down bed that she thought could be salvaged with some elbow grease, soap, hot water and time to dry fully.

She had searched the bags with a grimace, setting aside the things they could use. She had found nothing beyond a couple of lighters, a few more cans of food, a couple of candy bars, more water bottles, and a motley collection of clothing suitable for either herself, Santana, or one of the children to wear.

Needless to say, the bags had been a disappointment, even though she had been able to change out of her jeans into two pairs of sweatpants and added a hoodie over her sweater and under the letterman jacket.

She had quickly piled the rest of the items she needed on the bed as well, and packed up everything into more trash bags, then pulled one over herself after cutting a hole into it, to keep her dryer, then tossed the box of bags into another bag.

Everything was piled up on the porch, waiting for her to stop here on the way back from gathering Santana and the children.

She had found nothing that would help Santana; she sighed, and picking up her candle from where she'd left it on the rail, went back into the house for one final check to ensure she had not missed anything.

It was far too quick to search the kitchen, bedrooms, and bathroom once more. Finally she was back into the living room, where she searched once more for medicine for Santana. Even a forgotten bottle of aspirin would be helpful.

In desperation, she opened up the cabinet under the fish tank, and pulled everything out one by one. Extra rocks for the tank, a spare hose, fish food, three different types of medicine, and a few statues that the owner had not placed into the tank. She leaned forward, and put her forehead onto the glass, closing her eyes. She was just going to have to make a trip, either today or tomorrow, likely today but it depended on how Santana and the children were, to the store next to Santana's hideout. She did not want to (the trapdoor to the roof had been closed by the children, and there was more and more snow gathering on it by the minute, so she was not even sure she could open it. And then, if she did and managed to scale the snowy roof to the next roof, she'd have to find that trapdoor, then dig it open), but if she must, she must.

She idly shook the bottle of fish medicine in her hand while she concentrated on her breathing, trying to relax her body for her upcoming trek through the snow and all that would come after. The Berry's had never kept fish, Hiram had insisted they weren't pets, but simply moving decorations that they would not have in their house. So she expected the bottle to be silent, assuming it was flakes inside, because what other way would fish get medicine?

To her surprise, the bottle rattled.

She opened her eyes, and brought the candle closer to read it.

"For control of common bacterial infections in fish." Not daring to smile, to_ hope,_ she turned the bottle around, and quickly scanned the back.

Two words immediately caught her eye; "Fish antibiotics".

Then, finally, "Cephalexin".

She smiled a brilliant 1000 watt smile. She wasn't sure, quite, but when her Daddy had caught bronchitis, she was almost positive that Cephalexin had been the drug name on the label of pills her and her Papa had given him the first few days until he felt good enough to get it for himself. It certainly sounded right.

She decided, right then and there, that she'd put off going to the store next to Santana's hideout -she was almost certain these fish pills would help Santana. She'd give her some a few times a day, and if Santana didn't improve, she'd make the trip to the store.

Feeling considerably better, Rachel rattled the bottle gleefully, then carefully placed it the jacket pocket.

It was time to collect Santana and the children.

* * *

She did not know exactly how long she had trudged through the snow, pulling the sled with one hand, switching it out for the hand that was in her pocket, holding onto the bottle of pills when it got too cold, or too sore.

She did not allow herself to do any thinking about any one, or thing, beyond making a mental note to wrap something around the jump rope that she was using to pull the sled with, to protect her hands.

Finally, after what felt like a very long time indeed, she found herself in front of the building, barely able to see the small sign that said "Elena City Hall".

Switching her cold hand for the warm, she reached it out, and knocked on the door.

Then again.

It took several minutes of her shivering, getting snowed on, and freezing before the door was open, and a wide eyed, pale Kyle opened it, clutching his inhaler.

"Hello Kyle," she smiled warmly at him, trying to control her shivering, as she quickly stepped inside, snow billowing in with her, letting go of the sled right up to the doorway. She gripped the bottle of medicine tightly, glad to have medicine, abet _fish_ medicine for Santana as the red-haired boy stepped aside, shivering himself, to let her in.

She left the door open and followed him into the back and up the stairs to Santana and Beth.

* * *

**A/N:** The day they were separated and their two newest members were killing being day 0, this chapter was day 2.

Next chapter will be a small time jump to day 4. Rachel's trek back to the lumber yard with Santana, Kyle, and Beth was freezing cold, slow and nothing happened of note, so it was cut out. I think I found a good point to end this chapter on.

So this story has been up for over a year now! My, how time flies. Here's to another year or so! I have this story completely outlined, and I really can't wait to share it with you all.

Let me know what you think! Next chapter's gonna be_ awesome._


	25. Look Out Young Son

Brittany's stomach growled like Lord Tubbington did when their neighbor brought her poodle over. Shivering, she drank some more hot water, and huddled closer to Kurt, who did the same.

It'd been snowing constantly the last two days. Kurt had told her everything he knew about cars, and a lot of other stuff, and she'd shared her knowledge on motocross, knitting, training animals (he'd totally be able to help her train the puppies now) and sex. She knows a lot about sex, and while Kurt was embarrassed at first, eventually he conceded that she knew her stuff when it came to sex with boys that could be useful to Kurt and Blaine. He'd cut her off when she started talking about sex with girls though.

She'd tried to explain the numbers to him, in a moment of super super boredom, but he'd just looked at her like she had suddenly started speaking French instead of English.

Which was silly, her Spanish was way better than her French, except her French kissing was better than her Spanish kissing.

They had run out of food yesterday, and they were both really really hungry.

She wanted to try searching the neighboring trailers. Kurt thought they'd get lost, and be too cold without the stove, that they'd be fine if they had water.

And they did, because they were melting and boiling the fluffy white clean looking snow they collected from a window -the snow was tall enough to reach easily.

At least the zombies were frozen; that thought alone had made Kurt happy.

That made her think of something. "Hey Kurt?"

"Yes Brittany?" he replied tiredly.

"Why don't we go find food, then get to the cars since all the zombies are frozen?"

He sat up, and looked at her with his mouth slightly open, before saying, "Brittany, you are_ brilliant._ After we get some food in us, and it's stops snowing long enough, we can bundle up in blankets and walk to the cars, then find Blaine and everyone, and get the hell out of this town!"

She smiled at him, and cuddled closer.

It felt good to know that they could find everyone as soon as it stopped snowing and they found some food.

Her stomach growled again, and she sighed quietly, then asked Kurt, "What fashion makers do you think are still alive? And what do you think their apocalypse spring fashions are going to look like?"

"_Designers._ And Jean-Paul Gaultier, definitely. I don't know if he's somewhere designing clothes, Brittany, but if he is? I don't care what we have to do, I want to get my hands on them; I was only ever able to get one piece of his but it'd have to be easier now. And Marc Jacobs's clothing would be great too..."

Kurt started babbling about clothes, and Brittany tuned him out.

She cuddled up into the bedding, wishing she had Lord Tubbington to keep her toes warm. Although, it was way better he was with Tiffany, keeping_ her_ toes warm.

* * *

"Hey Broadway," Santana called from where she was sitting up cocooned in blankets, Tiffany and Lord Tubbington sitting next to her. Rachel grit her teeth, and put another piece of wood onto the fire before turning to Santana.

Her fever had broken, and Rachel was surely glad the fish medicine had worked. _Truly._ But Santana was certainly being…Santana.

Rachel knew if the situations were reversed, she would have been nothing but exceedingly kind to Santana; gratefulness for saving her life, and the lives of her charges would have made her attempt to endure herself to Santana. She would have owed Santana, _known_ it, and spent the rest of their lives trying to repay her.

Santana apparently did not feel the same way.

Santana put her mug out, and shook it mockingly at Rachel, grinning as Rachel, with a bit of a huff, snatched it, quickly made Santana a cup of tea.

"Now Broadway," Santana drawled, "how do you not know I prefer two sugar cubes in my tea by now?"

Rachel grit her teeth even harder, and silently seething inside, handed the mug to Sarah and made Santana a new one.

Last cup of tea she'd made Santana, the Latina girl had demanded_ three_ sugar cubes.

"Santana, I-" Rachel was interrupted by Chris letting out a cry of outrage, and smacking Beth's face with the stuffed animal in his hands.

Beth proceeded to cry.

That was another thing; five children in her, and _only_ her, care in addition to Santana was simply_ taxing_. The children were full of energy, and needed more entertainment then she could provide them. It was good; it meant that they were not as horrible affected by their situation as Rachel had feared. On top of that, two toddlers who were constantly fighting with each other, and Rachel was just about ready to cry herself.

Well, she had last night in bed, as quietly as she could, in fact.

Her sunburn, gained from her trek through the snow, was painful still, the children had been bickering and complaining about yet more corn bread and both Chris and Beth had to be changed multiple times and really needed a proper bath. It'd been too much, and she'd needed the release of crying, she was barely hanging on to her sanity and hope that they others would find them.

"Broadway?" Stacy asked, with a frown at the toddlers.

And of course, the children had picked up Santana's new nickname for her.

She tried to gently correct them every time one of them said it.

Tried. Sometimes she did not manage it. And it was not helping much anyway, since Santana was un-relentless about calling her that.

Broadway. Every time, it sent a sliver of a dagger through Rachel's heart. Which was the point, of course. Obviously Santana knew what she was doing calling Rachel that, and encouraging the children to do so as well.

It was painful, especially that Santana did not seem to care at all how hurtful it was.

It was just all so pointless; in the world they lived in, couldn't they let go of petty grudges from high school? They had enough going on without making each other miserable.

"Rachel, please. Or Ms. Berry if you would prefer to be overtly formal, Stacy," Rachel sighed, then gave the girl a small smile.

"It's my turn with the bear, but Kyle won't let me have it," Stacy pouted, lips quivering, and Rachel internally cringed. Children cried over the stupidest things.

Your parents are dead, and you are stuck in a lumber yard with other children, and some teenagers. Cry about that instead of someone wearing the leggings you wanted, or you've already read one of the handful of books there was on hand or some other stupid petty reason. She swore that Beth had cried over the color bowl she was using earlier in the day.

_Honestly._

The bear skin rug Kyle had insisted Rachel take with her from Santana's hideout had proven to be very popular with them all. Even Rachel would grudgingly admit it was warm, and the fur was lovely to pet, even if she was morally against hunting. She'd kept it on Santana most of the time, but now that Santana was much more awake, had allowed them to take turns with it with the caveat that they do not dirty or destroy it.

"I believe it is_ my_ turn, Stacy," Rachel gave the girl her best, nicest stage smile, then added, "Perhaps you would like to color?"

It was not Rachel's turn, but she was so tired of dealing with the children's petty squabbles.

"Chris and Beth broke all the crayons," Sarah pointed out from next to Beth.

"That is unfortunate that the crayons are not their proper size, but they are still useable, are they not?" Rachel said to both of them.

Stacy nodded, frowning, and after a moment, Sarah did to, before pulling Beth into a hug, giving Chris (who was now chewing on the stuffed animal's ear) a look.

"Stacy! Sarah! Tiff!" Stevie, Kyle behind him, came running towards them from where Rachel had moved their bathroom area to the farthest corner of the covered area. "It's stopped snowing! Let's go play!"

The three girls stood up, Tiffany helpfully help Chris up, and Rachel frowned, "I do not know if that's the best idea?"

"Aw, Broadway, let 'em go have some fun, it'll tire them out at least," Santana snipped.

Rachel sighed, she couldn't argue with that, "Very well. Please bundle up as best you can," When Sarah started pulling Chris's hoodie onto Beth, Rachel added, "Chris and Beth will stay here. It is much easier for children to regulate their temperature then toddlers." She had no idea if that was true, but it _sounded_ good.

"Well, maybe I'll stay here?" Sarah said reluctantly. She had been a huge help to Rachel these last few days; likely too much help, but Rachel had no choice until Santana was stronger than to rely on Sarah.

"Thank you, but I think Santana and I can manage without you for ten minutes or however long it takes all of you to get cold and come back. Otherwise I shall collect you when it's time to return to the warmth. Please, join the others and have some fun." Sarah nodded, then without another word to Rachel, started pulling on her shoes.

Rachel sighed again. Even the children didn't like her.

"Remember not to go out the gate," she called softly as the five children headed away from their lean-to, Lord Tubbington trailing behind them. His ears were back, and she wondered if that meant he was hungry. She'd only been giving him half a can of sardines a day; wanting the food to last in case they needed it themselves, and whatever he managed to hunt up for himself. She felt bad about it, truly, but she it hadn't taken her long to decide he could stand to lose some weight anyway and it was important the children have the sardines in case Rachel wasn't able to go out for supplies soon.

She should go out in search of more supplies in a day or so. Perhaps even later today, who knew how long until the snow started falling again. Attempting to find some sign of the others, to give them all hope, would not be a horrible idea as well, especially if it was on her way to find supplies. She _had_ seen the direction Brittany and Kurt, as well as Quinn and Blaine, had gone.

Once the children had scampered off and were no longer in direct eyesight, Rachel turned back to Santana.

"Please stop it," she said evenly.

"Stop _what_ Berry?"

"I know you do not like me, that you never have, and likely never will. I've accepted that long ago. But given that I crossed through a snow storm for you, not to mention have cared for you, including cleaning you when you have soiled yourself," Santana flinched at that, and Rachel tried not to take too much pleasure at finally getting some back at her, "The least you could do is not make an already difficult situation that much more difficult."

"Spit it out."

"At the least, please stop calling me Broadway. It's cruel, you know it. You may as well…." Rachel sighed, so suddenly tired. She set a stuffed animal next to Beth, then picked up a blanket one of the children had left haphazardly on the ground, and started folding it. "Just, please Santana. I do not know why you are so upset I saved you, nor do I have the energy to speculate, just plea-."

She was interrupted by screams. Desperate, fearful screams.

Rachel dropped the blanket she was holding, the words she planned to finish saying to Santana dying in her throat, and raced towards the children, grabbing her hatchet on the way.

She met a sobbing Tiffany, who was being nudged forward by Lord Tubbington, and stammered out to her, "Go to Santana!" as she leapt past the crying girl.

The sight before her made her gasp and stumble a bit as she moved out of the covered area into the snow.

One of the zombies that had killed Matilda and Gloria was ripping into poor sweet Stacy's flesh.

Sarah was holding Stevie back. Both were screaming.

Kyle was frantically trying to use his inhaler as he scrambled away from the gruesome sight.

The hunter was sitting over the girl's body, ripping pieces of her midsection and pulling it to his mouth, where he chewed noisily.

_Why had the zombie not froze!?_

"Rachel? What's going on?" Santana called out as Rachel crossed the few feet towards the gruesome sight, trudging through the snow, not even noticing the icy cold hitting her bare legs and sock covered feet.

The hunter -he'd been a teenage boy once upon a time, and was still clad in a letter man jacket, looked up at her, Stacy's blood covering his face.

He growled, and started to make an effort to stand, and regardless of the snow, she pushed herself to go faster. She lifted the hatchet, and brought it down on his head before he'd finished standing up. Over and over and over until it was nothing but a mass of brain and blood and zombie goo in the snow.

She fell backwards, and sat in the snow, staring at Stacy's body. She could only hope that the girl had died quickly, and painlessly from shock.

"It…it jumped over the fence…" Sarah whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Stevie pulled out of Sarah's grasp, and ran to his sister. He turned back to Sarah hotly, "Why didn't you let me go? I could have…"

"It would have got you too! Dummy!" Sarah spat, then started sobbing.

Stevie fell to his knees, and started crying his heart out next to his sister's body.

Rachel had failed.

Everyone was surely going to hate her, and kick her out of the group. She'd be alone, on her own trying to survive by herself.

A child was dead because Rachel had let Santana get to her; Santana was Santana, and would always be. Rachel had held up to Santana's worst with the entirety of their high school backing her, helping to make Rachel miserable, but Rachel couldn't handle her now?

And now a child was dead because Rachel was _weak._

She stared at Stacy's body, the black fluid leaking from the girl's mouth and eyes, her skin already starting to redden.

Stacy was going to _turn._

Stevie was still kneeled in the snow, crying his eyes out, next to his sister's corpse.

She would not lose another under her protection and care today. _Ever._

Rachel had barely finished that thought before Stacy's mouth opened wider, and what had been previously a sweet little girl, snarled, hungry. Not at all recognizing that was her brother, who only two days ago had been so relieved and happy to see him.

Stevie fell backwards, staring wide eyed at his sister.

In a sight that would haunt Rachel's nightmares for a very long time, Stacy reached out towards Stevie, grasping for his flesh. Then the zombie started wiggling back in forth in a grotesque mockery of an infant trying to crawl as it struggled to get towards Stevie.

As Rachel sat frozen for a second, realized that the hunter zombie likely broke Stacy's spine, and thus the zombie couldn't stand up or move very well, if at all.

Another second was wasted wondering how much pain Stacy had been in as she died before Rachel struggled to get up out of the snow, to take care of the corpse before it killed Stevie too.

* * *

Santana Lopez was a bitch. She knew it. She was other things too, a bad ass, great lover, amazing singer, and a bunch of other stuff, but when people first saw her? They knew she was a bitch.

She'd been so pissed off Rachel freaking Berry had saved her. First, it was _Rachel Berry._ Treasure Trail. Hobbit. Yentl. Dwarf. Midget. RuPaul. And a zillion other mean things.

Second, Santana's fever dreams had been about Brittany, about the rest of the glee club; everything was normal, her family wasn't dead, the world wasn't screwed up.

It was nice.

And Rachel had taken her away from them, from that life, fake as it was. Santana hadn't wanted to wake up to the crappy reality they were in.

So yeah, Santana was a bitch. It wasn't fair to Rachel, it wasn't fair at all.

She couldn't help it.

What else was she going to do? Cry and sob like a baby like Rachel had done last night? To give the hobbit credit, she'd tried to be quiet about it; Santana's probably been the only one to realize Rachel was crying.

But alright, if Rachel wanted to not be called Broadway any more, Santana'd stop. Mostly. But she would, for sure, get the kids to stop calling Rachel that.

Hopefully, Santana thought, as she hobbled weakly after Rachel, the kids were just playing some dumb game or a prank on Rachel, and weren't in any sort of danger or anything. They'd been getting increasingly hostile to her; not outright, but it was getting obvious they were tired of her being in charge. Santana would talk to them about that too.

Those reassuring thoughts flew away as a fat cat and a sobbing almost five year old ran up to her. Tiffany flung herself at Santana, and Santana wrapped her arms around the blonde girl. Frowning, Santana called out to Rachel, asking what was going on, but received no answer.

Finally, she pulled away from Tiffany, "Take Tubby and go sit with Chris and Beth, okay? It's okay to cry if you want, but make sure they stay away from the fire. They're really little, and you're a big girl, and I need you to watch out so they don't get hurt, okay? Hazme orgulloso, Te amo y vamos a estar bien." Tiffany nodded, tears trailing down her face, but looking a little more calmer now that she had a task, and Santana pulled her in for a hug, then gently pushed her towards their camping spot.

Clutching her blanket closer, wishing she was wearing more clothes under it, she weakly followed after Rachel.

She didn't hear any more screaming, at least.

Just crying.

She made it to the end of the covered area just in time to watch Rachel sit backwards into the snow, the hatchet forgotten as around them the children cried. Rachel was covered in blood and gore.

Santana felt weak, and a little shaky, and her blanket wasn't doing jack to keep her warm compared to her cozy bed next to the fire.

It was pretty damn easy to figure out what had happened in the minute it'd taken Santana to get up and follow Rachel.

God. Poor Stacy. And Stevie had seen it all.

What was she going to tell Sam?

Stacy twitched, black goop streaming from her mouth and eyes. Santana opened her mouth to scream a warning at Stevie, as Rachel struggled to stand up out of the snow. Stevie had seen it to, and scrambled backwards, still sobbing, as his sister started reaching for him.

Santana could only stare, open mouthed, as Rachel finally stood up, and then without hesitation, brought the hatchet down on Stacy's -the _zombie's_ head, until sh-_ it_ stopped moving.

Then Rachel dropped the hatchet in the snow, and sat backwards, staring off into the distance.

Santana swallowed hard. She didn't think she'd have the balls to do what Rachel just done. Santana stared at Stacy's still form, then at Stevie's still sobbing form.

Nope.

If it had been Santana out there, instead of Rachel, she would have hesitated, or something and Stevie would have been dead too.

Then they'd have two child zombies for Santana to not be able to put down.

Santana wiped at her teary eyes, then stepped hesitantly in the snow, wincing as the cold soaked through the socks she was wearing.

"Sarah, Kyle," she called, her voice weak, "Get Stevie and go by the fire." The other two children were crying, and while Santana understood, she did, they needed to get to the warmth, and away from where they were just in case there were more of the super zombies lurking. "_Now,_" she added sharply. That made the two children, still crying, move. Stevie clung to Kyle, ignoring Sarah, and the trio went back towards their shelter.

Rachel was still staring blankly at nothing.

Great. _She,_ the zombies, watching a little girl get munched on, then having to get up close and personal with that girls head and a hatchet, had broke something in Rachel Berry. Something that Santana wasn't sure could be fixed.

She stepped closer to Rachel, avoiding looking at Stacy's remains, or the jock zombie that'd ate her, and doing her best to avoid stepping in blood and zombie gunk, then crotched down to Rachel.

"Hey, Berry, now's not the time to have a breakdown."

Rachel ignored her, or more accurately probably didn't even hear her.

Crap.

"Rachel, _please._ The kids need you," Santana swallowed hard again, and looked away, up towards the cloud covered sky, "I need you. And I'm sorry I've been a cunt. I…I couldn't have done what you just did, you know. Stevie, and hell, the rest of us except maybe Tiffany would have been zombie buffet if it was up to me. I just couldn't…you're stronger then I am. I have no freaking clue how you've managed to keep things together as long as you have…you're just stronger than me." She repeated, then added, "Must be that same drive you had to be on Broadway. We all knew you'd get there, you know, even if we took your solos and slushied you four times a day, one day you'd be a star and we'd be living our super normal lives, telling people we went to school with you. "

It hurt a bit, to admit all that, especially to Rachel Berry. It was a funny kind of hurt like, like when your foot fell asleep or you banged your funny bone on something.

After a few moments, Santana was shivering a bit now. She added, "I'm really cold Rachel, and you gotta be too. You aren't even wearing pants."

"Santana." Rachel's voice, low and quiet, made Santana look at the smaller girl again. "I accept your apology. Please do not use that word around me again, and certainly not where the children can hear you."

"I- okay Rachel. Promise."

"I shall hold you to that promise," Rachel said, standing up, and picking up the hatchet.

"I always keep my promises, my grandma always said, 'Las promesas son como bebés; fácil de hacer, es difícil de cumplir.' Which was also her sex talk," Santana said. After a moment's hesitation, eyeing the gore, blood, and zombie goop Rachel was covered in, she offered some of her blanket to Rachel.

"Thank you, but our laundry situation is dire enough without adding to it. I am afraid I'm going to have to burn this sweater," Rachel looked down at her owl sweater sadly.

"Best thing for it, I mean, it's an owl sweater" Santana said, then added, "I bet we can find you more. Hell, we'll get you ten like it."

"In the over grown toddler section?" Rachel said lightly, a sad smile on her face as they walked around Stacy's body.

"Yeah," Santana said sadly, "What are we going to do with her body?"

"I do not know yet. We can't bury her, and I think burning a body will require fuel we do not have, unless perhaps we use up a fair amount of the wood, even then I don't know how long that'd take. Perhaps just cover it in snow until…"

"We think of something better?" Santana added for her when Rachel trailed off.

"Yes."

"This is unfair bullshit," Santana spat out, clinching her fists, fingers digging into her blanket.

"I know you are not angry at me, but the children might not realize you are mad at the situation, Santana," Rachel's quiet voice said as they stepped onto the cement.

Santana nodded, her anger deflated, "Let's get back to them, get something warm into us all. God, they're all going to have nightmares. Hell, we are too probably."

"I can handle whatever happens tonight, Santana."

"No, I can do kid dream duty Rachel. I'm not totally useless."

Rachel stopped, lightly gripping Santana's wrist to stop her too.

"Santana, you are ill, and you need to rest. You should not have been out of bed, let alone half naked with me in the snow. In a few days, perhaps, but for now? You rest. As you said, I am strong, I can handle things."

"I'm going to be at least on toddler duty Berry," Santana said, grinning, "I feel like me and Beth have a connection."

"You mean a shared love of wanton destruction and getting into fights?" Rachel said primly, "You may have Tiffany, Kyle, and Chris duty, unless that proves too much for you, then you may have just Tiffany and Kyle."

"Thanks, I'll help out as best I can…" Santana couldn't stop thinking about Sam. What the hell was she going to tell him? How was she going to make this up to him? She couldn't, except by making sure nothing happened to Stevie too, even that wouldn't be enough.

"Of that, I have no doubts Santana. Now, let us hurry up. The children need us, and we need the fire. And I desperately need to be as clean as possible." Reluctantly, Santana leaned on Rachel for support, touching only the clean parts of the other girl, ignoring the fact, as she had since she'd first seen Rachel Berry, that she was only a few inches taller then the brunette and it was super easy to lean on her.

The pair made their way back to the children silently.

* * *

"They're still out there," Blaine sighed, and tucked blanket corner he was holding open to peer outside back against the wall, "I'm sorry, I think they can hear Dahlia and that's why they aren't going away."

The zombies had broken though the backdoor and shoddy blockade and poured into the backyard, surrounding them and the tree house sometime during their first day in it. They'd been okay in the tree house; almost comfortable, if it weren't for the constant need to keep the propane stove on 24/7, and the embarrassing awkwardness of using the bucket when one of them had to use the bathroom.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "If I had a dollar bill every time you've apologized needlessly, I'd have enough money to burn to keep us warm for an entire night," she took a sip of her hot chocolate, and gazed at Dahlia, who was sleeping in their makeshift bed, "We're warm, fed, watered and fine. Either they'll freeze eventually, they have to right? Or it'll snow enough to cover them up completely or we can take our chances with the limb. But for now? We're fine here for a few more days."

Blaine frowned, and shook his head, "I think we're going to run out of propane soon…it feels really light, and we have been running it near constantly for the last few days. And we're almost out of formula and diapers. We can keep the stove on super low and probably be fine, but…."

"So fine. We take advantage of the break in the snow, climb the tree, hop onto the roof, and get down the other side of the house, and run back towards town and the cars, and find the others," Quinn wrinkled her nose at him, and took another sip of her drink.

"No, Quinn, it's just too risky. I can climb down, and get them to follow me out of the house and around the block, then come back. They're slow enough that we'll have enough time to get away."

"No way," Quinn said, gritting her teeth, "That's too risky for you. What if you slip? What if you can't find your way back? No way." She repeated, shaking her head for emphasis.

"I just want you and my sister to be safe," Blaine replied softly, looking down at his sister.

"And I want us all safe," Quinn sighed, "Don't you want to see Kurt? Rachel? Everyone?" She set her mug down on the ground, carefully avoiding the stain the zombie had left on the floor while it was trapped in here, and stood up. In several quick steps, she was at the window next to the door. She pulled the curtain up, and pointed, "Look. That branch goes right over the roof Blaine. It's huge, big enough to walk on. We pack up everything in the diaper bag and a backpack, or just both backpacks, whatever, use that sheet as a sling for Dahlia again and take things really slow. I've probably got the best balance, so I should take Dahlia maybe?" She mused. There'd been a lot of down time in the tree house, Quinn had had plenty of time to study the tree, the yard, the house.

It was easier then thinking about Beth and the others.

"Quinn…of course I.._Quinn_," Blaine stood up, and pointed, "There's a light. _There's a car out there._"

Quinn dropped the makeshift curtain after seeing the blurry glare of the headlights herself, and started pulling on her boots.

"We can set the stove, turn it up all the way on the porch? Or…the flashlight?" Blaine, continued, and started looking around for the large mag light they'd found in one of the boxes, and grinned when he found it. He turned it on, and went back to the window, started turning it off and off rapidly as Quinn finished lacing her boots.

Quinn pulled on the big jacket she'd found for Blaine, then turned towards the door. "We can't risk whoever it is not seeing the light Blaine. I'm going out there."

"What? No. Quinn, it's too dangerous. I'll go, I'll…" He trailed off as she hefted up her dependable cast iron pan in one hand, and snatched the mag light out of his other hand.

"Nope, too late!" She called, near giddy with excitement as she went out the door and onto the porch, "I'll be okay Blaine. _We'll_ be okay."

She didn't care if that was a vengeful Frannie driving an army tank; whoever in the vehicle was going to help them, even if it was just giving them a ride to the cars.

Gripping the light and pan tightly in each hand, she crossed the porch and climbed over the rail carefully. Taking a moment to get her balance, she started walking slowly along the snow covered tree limb.

Blaine had followed her out of the tree house, and silently watched her.

She didn't have to look at him to see that he was worried.

She kept her eyes on the steps ahead of her, only daring to check the headlights after every fourth step. Whoever was driving the vehicle was going as slow as molasses through the deep snow.

Good.

She finally reached the spot on the branch that was over the roof, and after taking a deep breath, she jumped down. She slid a little in the snow, but caught herself, and took a tentative step forward, sliding a little more in the snow with each step. She took a deep breath of cold air, and took more tentative steps forward.

She didn't have to look down at the zombies in the yard to know that they were all watching her, hungrily. She'd be dead if she fell, even if she was uninjured. There had to be over fifty zombies just in the backyard.

Balancing carefully with the items in her hands, she stepped slowly on the roof, slipping a little before she caught herself.

Taking slow, terribly slow, steps, she walked up the roof, barely breathing, avoiding the part where there was no roof at all. Hopefully any more parts of the roof that would collapse, would have done it from the snow already.

Finally, she was at the peak, and she, with a grimace, stepped over the peak to the other side.

Her feet slide out from under her, and she fell onto her butt, and slide down the other side of the roof.

She landed in the snow with a cold shock to the system, and a jolt of pain through her bad ankle, but she didn't have time to think about any possible injuries as she struggled to stand up.

The zombies had noticed her.

Luckily, they were even slower because of the snow on the ground. Unluckily, so was Quinn. And there's was always the possibility that the super hunter zombies were lurking around. Quinn had killed one, but who knew where the rest were

She managed to stand up eventually. One zombie was close enough to her that she had to smack the pan against it's head a couple of times before she started going as fast as she could away from the yard towards the road. The truck's light's guided her as she trudged through the front yard, just managing to avoid zombie's reaching out for her.

She could hear them start to follow her.

Good. That'd get them away from Blaine and Dahlia.

The truck was red.

Like Puck's truck.

Not daring to allow herself to hope, she fought her way through the snow towards the road.

Once on the road, she started she was able to start running on the snow flattened by the truck's tires, slipping and sliding, but always managing to right herself before she fell.

The zombies were able to go faster too.

Madly, she started pushing the button on and off on the mag light, hoping to catch the driver's attention. She'd have to run back to town if the truck didn't notice her, or try and get back to the treehouse.

The truck stopped.

She slid the rest of the way forward, hitting the bumper with a thump. Dropping the pan in the back of the truck, close enough to grab it if she needed, she used that hand to hold onto the sides of the truck bed. Fingers even colder on the metal, she caught her breath as the driver's door opened, gripping the truck like the lifeline it was, knowing she had a few minutes before the zombies caught up to her.

To them.

"Quinn?"

He looked like the last four days had aged him four years. She supposed she looked the same too, or probably worse. Staring at him a bit more, she suddenly noticed his nose was swollen and crooked, and one of his eyes was black and tender looking. His face would likely look worse if she had her glasses or contacts.

She looked at Sam, and shivering, said, "Hi Sam."

* * *

**A/N: **

As I said, if I get enough reviews I'll update earlier then my normal posting schedule. Here you go! Let me know what you think!

Did I say awesome in the last chapter's author notes? I meant sad. Poor little Stacy. Poor Stevie. Poor _Sam._ And poor Rachel. I think Santana learned her lesson though, and something about Rachel Santana didn't want to admit was true.

(And who's going to comfort Rachel, and make her feel a little better? I mean, Santana tried, but that was more of a 'Rachel knows there's things that need doing and she's the only one who can do them' situation, even if Santana didn't realize that. Quinn, obviously. Soonish there's going to be so many lovely Faberry moments omg. ;) )

All the hunter zombies are taken care of now! Yay. And more characters are realizing the zombies haven't froze, but some still don't know.

**Spanish:** Hazme orgulloso, Te amo y estaremos bien.

**English:** Make me proud , I love you and we'll be fine .

**Spanish:** Las promesas son como bebés : fácil de hacer , es difícil de cumplir.

**English: **Promises are like babies: easy to make, hard to deliver.

**Guest:** Rachel choose to risk going out into the snow storm and bring Santana, Kyle, and Beth back to the lumber yard instead of those at the lumber yard moving to Santana's hideout _because_ of the snow. She pretty clearly felt that it'd be better to have wood for fire, then to have a building, even a building with a store near it (and the trapdoors to the roof, and the only access to the store are blocked by snow anyway!) It is very very _very_ cold, they need fire, hot food, and hot water.

As for Sam &amp; Tina, well, I think that was teased this chapter. Given Sam's broken nose and black eye, something happened that we'll find out more about next chapter. ;)

Santana got Kyle, Stevie, and Beth to safety. She has certainly done more to help people then just Brittany -do keep in mind that the characters are teenagers, and aren't superheros. I think they're all doing as well as they can given their situations, even if some of them could be doing more, then again, some of them could be doing less too.

I'm glad you love the fic; please consider leaving a signed review next time so I can reply to you directly, and talk about anything you wish. I don't bite, and I think the people I've replied to would agree I'm quite nice.


	26. Die Young

It'd stopped snowing, and they were going to find her sister and everyone. She wasn't quite sure what she was more excited about -finding them, or _food._ She was awfully hungry, but she was also really worried and scared for everyone.

Brittany flopped backwards and made a snow angel. She was wearing so many layers of clothing she didn't feel the cold of the snow through them as she moved her arms and legs back and forth.

"Brittany," Kurt had finished shimmying through the window, and was staring at her. He clutched his knife tightly, and said again, "Brittany!" his eyes darting to look around them. He was wearing more layers then she was, and it had taken him longer to get through the window, but he'd managed it.

She couldn't help it. She was excited they were going to find her sister, Santana, Quinn and the others, plus the snow had looked so pretty, and fluffy.

"I'm almost done with my snow angle Kurt."

"Angel, Brittany. Angel." Kurt sighed, and she fought her urge to grin at him, excitement burbling through her, "Brittany please hurry up. It could start snowing again in any minute, and the sooner we find something to eat, the sooner we can head for the cars."

She finished, so she carefully sat up, and hopped away so she wouldn't mess it up, then turned and looked at her snow angel. Grinning, she picked up her knife, and turned to Kurt.

"Where too first?"

Biting his lip, he looked around, then finally shrugged, "Closest trailer I guess?"

"Okay! Follow me." Then she practically skipped through the deep snow to the closest trailer, trudging through it, Kurt following behind her.

It took then sixteen minutes to walk through the snow to the trailer, but finally they stood on the small, drooping porch. A small plastic playhouse meant for little kids took up most of the room on the small porch, and Brittany grinned, and pointed to it, "That means kids lived here. And everyone knows parents always have snacks around for their kids."

"You're right. So hopefully we'll be able to eat something, and take stuff with us to eat on the way to the cars, " Kurt paused with his hand on the door knob, "I suppose it'll be too much to ask for some better clothes." He sighed, and opened the door.

"Maybe something better fitting? Or for snow?" Brittany suggested as they stepped inside.

He looked around, and turned to her, then raised the hand and gestured at the living room, "Going by their decorations, I doubt there will be anything -Ahh," he screeched, a loud piercing noise that kinda gave Brittany a headache as a small form ran into the room, and latched onto his leg.

Mouth open in shock, instinctively he shoved the knife through the top of the zombie's skull. It let go, and fell over.

Cocking her head to the side, Brittany looked at it, then said softly, trying to control the panic that was welling up through her, "I think you got the knife through its soft spot…Poor thing. It didn't get your leg, right? You should be wearing too many layers…you are, right?"

Kurt slid against the wall, and looked at her, "No" Her heart seized up painfully before he added, dazedly,"…no it didn't bite me. I'm fine."

Brittany nodded, took a deep breath, and said "I'm glad you aren't going to die Kurt."

"Me too Brittany. It's so cold in here, why hasn't it froze?" Kurt asked morosely as Brittany stepped over the toddlers body, tears in her eyes as she looked at the small body for a second before heading into the kitchen.

"Maybe it was frozen, but it heard us and got super strength?" she suggested after she wiped her eyes, and started looking through the cupboards.

"…Maybe. Or maybe for whatever reason they didn't freeze. How, I have no idea…they're dead bodies. Walking dead bodies, but still..." Kurt trailed off, then wide eyed, he stood up, grabbed his knife, then turned towards her, "Brittany, we have to go back to our trailer. If the zombies didn't freeze, it's not _safe._"

"Maybe it didn't freeze because it was in a house? So we'll just be really careful every time we search inside places?"

"I…I don't know. We should go back just in case."

"No," She set the can of soup she had in her hand next to the small pile of food she'd already started piling on the counter, then pulled a box of crackers out, which she shook at Kurt, "We're going to make sure there aren't more zombies in here. And we're going to eat. Then we're going to the cars and we're going to find everyone. We've been apart too long, and that's more scary then zombies. Kinda."

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, staring at her. "All…alright."

"Let's check the other rooms okay?" She set the crackers down, then picked up her knife, and lead the way to the small hallway and cluster of three doors.

There was a small bedroom that housed a bunk bed and a crib with the door wide open, and Brittany was pretty sure the little zombie had come from that room. The other two doors were closed. She reached a hand out to the nearest door's doorknob, but dropped it with a frown. Instead, she knocked on the door loudly.

Scratching and snarls answered her.

"Let's just get what we can, and go back to our trailer to eat?" Kurt suggested, backing away from the doors.

"Sure."

It took four minutes for them to dump out toys from plastic baskets in the living room, and pack them both with as much food as they could, then another twelve minutes to get back to their trailer, and another three for Kurt to take off a bunch of layers of clothing, then shimmy back through the window, and move the things blocking the front door.

Brittany picked up her box, and stepped forward - then stopped, and stared in the direction they'd run from when they came here -the others were out there, and today they were going to find them.

* * *

Exhaustion crashed through her -all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. She did not want to comfort children, tend the fire, cook, or even boil water. She just wanted to be as warm and comfortable as possible -which was not practical, given their situation.

Instead, she was helping Chris use the bathroom, standing next to him while the toddler did his business, trying not to think about the bodies laying in the snow. Instead, she attempted to focus on the satisfaction of toilet training the toddler -well, at least making great strides in starting the learning process.

Santana had divided some of the candy Rachel had been reluctant to give the children much of, then made them all take off their shoes and wet clothes and curl up under blankets. Santana had hefted up Lord Tubbington, and set the crying cat in Stevie's arms. The boy had immediately started sobbing in the cat's fur. Then Santana had crawled in bed in-between Tiffany and Sarah, curled up with both of them, leaving Rachel to handle just Chris, because thankfully Beth had decided she wanted a nap.

Rachel was grateful that the children, at least, were one less thing she had to worry about for the moment. She did not know how to comfort any of the crying children that would be adequate, but Santana seemed to have the best solution-half forgotten candy ignored in favor of crying, and a nap. It wasn't much, but it was better the Rachel would have thought of.

She was never going to get the feeling of putting a hatchet into Stacy's skull out of her mind. It would haunt her terribly for the rest of her days, she was certain.

As it was, every time she dared close her eyes in the two or so hours since, she saw Stacy's living face, staring at Rachel in horror as Rachel brought the hatchet down on the girl's head. She knew logically that Stacy had been dead, a zombie, when she'd done so, but that did not stop the image from playing that way over and over.

"Good job Christopher," she cooed at the toddler once she'd finished cleaning him up and helping him with his pants, faking an enthusiasm she just wasn't able to feel right now.

He grinned toothily at her, making the yearning for a child of her own, to care for and love who would love her back, a feeling that had gone dormant during the past four days wake up and prod her insides, reminding her that not that long ago she had wanted a baby.

She sternly told it to hide away in the back of her mind -Quinn was the only person she would consider a romantic relationship with, and Quinn certainly could not get her pregnant.

Christopher reached his arms up to her, looking at her pleadingly, and she was startled to realize that he had the exact same eye color and shape as Quinn -then disappointment at herself for not realizing it before. Of course, he was Quinn's nephew, it should not be a surprise they had similar features. She picked up the toddler, and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned into her, nestling his head up against the crook of her neck.

Yes, perhaps she would not have a baby of her own -but she could easily imagine herself raising Christopher, Beth, and Abby with Quinn, (and Dahlia with Blaine as well of course.) That would be enough children. And maybe, one day, seeing if Blaine or Kurt would be willing to impregnate either herself or Quinn and doing some sort of quad parenting for the children. Yes, she could picture it. It would be many years in the future, and would of course not even be considered until they had a good, safe home.

They would certainly need a turkey baster. Two. Yes, she could see it now -Blaine would impregnate Quinn, and Kurt would impregnate Rachel. They could attempt to do so at the same time, but perhaps that would be too odd for the children to grow up with siblings who were days or weeks apart.

Or perhaps -low growls interrupted her musing, and she stepped forward to get a better look at the gate. Zombie arms. They'd been found; their luck had run out.

Reality thundered it's way rudely back to Rachel, breaking her fantasy into millions of pieces. Quinn was so deep in the closet that even if she deemed Rachel over Finn enough to attempt a relationship, Quinn was barely able to admit to herself and Rachel her feelings for Rachel, but admitting it to Santana, and Brittany and the rest of the group was another matter entirely; which was ridiculous considering three people in the group were gay, and one was bisexual. Well, two, if you counted Rachel. And she wasn't sure if Quinn was bisexual as well, or not. But a lifetime of hell and brimstone and disapproving parents would have that affect on a person, so Rachel could sympathize with Quinn, even if Rachel was adamant that she would be no one's dirty little secret.

Although perhaps that would be better than being _alone._

There was still the matter of Quinn ignoring and being cold to her nephew and niece; there was certainly not going to be one big happy family there for a while, hopefully sooner than later if Rachel or someone else spoke to Quinn about them.

And of course -the _**zombies.**_ They were ever present, and the biggest concern over everything, even one's love life, and Rachel wondered, for a moment, if they would ever find a place to be safe and without the constant fear that was ever present.

She stared at the zombie hands reaching through the gaps between the gate and the fence, stretching out the bungee cord. Thank goodness she'd replaced the hair tie.

She tried to count the arms, to determine just how many zombies she was going to have to kill.

And it would be her, solely her -Santana was too weak, it was bad enough she'd gotten out of bed once today, Rachel would not allow the other girl to do so again.

No matter, Rachel realized with a sinking feeling as she continued counting arms, how much Rachel was going to need help.

There were quite a few zombies -more than Rachel was going to be able to handle by herself, with just a hatchet. Maybe if she had a proper axe.

Intense longing for her rifle filled her as she clutched the toddler tighter to herself.

With growing horror, she gave up counting the arms. There were too many -more and more as each minute passed.

They were doomed. Eventually, enough zombies would press forward and break the bungee cord that was keeping the gate closed, then they'd pour in and kill them all.

Stiffly, she sat down on the pavement.

Perhaps….perhaps she could take a pillow, and spare everyone being ripped apart. Chris first, then Beth, it'd go by age, she decided coolly, tears pricking at her eyes.

Rachel herself would have to suffer being torn apart and ate, but it'd be what she deserved for using that pillow, for letting things come to that, for _failing_ them all.

Tears falling freely from her face, and ignoring how sweet Christopher was looking as he stared at her with concern, she stood up again. She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to stare at the gate any more, but unwilling to go back to the others and start her grisly task, and took deep breaths. Chris looked as though he was going to start crying because she was crying, and so she needed to get a hold of herself to keep him calm.

Her task was going to hard enough without any one being woken up because Chris was sobbing.

So she smiled brightly at the toddler, and wiped away her tears.

There was no Broadway in her future -there was no future for her at all, this was _it_; she would give him an award winning performance. But at least she had had almost seventeen years -Chris would never see his second birthday, had barely made it to his first.

"We're going to…" her brain fumbled for words, finally she decided on "Play a new game. You'll have to be very quiet, okay?"

He smiled at her toothily, and nodded, sticking a few fingers into his mouth to suck on, and she had never felt so bad before at what she was about to do to this toddler, in order to spare him something far worse.

She was trying to make her feet cooperate and start walking back to the others, and the_ pillows,_ when she heard it.

Ke dollar sign ha.

Kesha.

_"While you're here in my arms_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

_We're gonna die young_

_We're gonna die young_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

_Young hearts, out our minds_

_Running 'til we outta time_

_Wild child's lookin' good_

_Living hard just like we should_

_Don't care who's watching when we tearing it up _

_That magic that we got nobody can touch _

_Looking for some trouble tonight _

_Take my hand, I'll show you the wild side_

_Like it's the last night of our lives_

_We'll keep dancing 'til we die_

_I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums_

_Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone_

_So while you're here in my arms,_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

_We're gonna die young_

_We're gonna die young"_

Someone_**-**__Brittany, _because of course who else would it be, only Brittany was allowed to sing Kesha, was singing.

And attracting the zombie's attention.

And it was **working.**

_"Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

_Cheerleaders, taking shots_

_Stripping down to dirty socks_

_Music up, gettin' hot_

_Kiss me, give me all you've got_

_It's pretty obvious that you've got a crush _

_That magic in your skirt, it's making me blush _

_Looking for some trouble tonight _

_Take my hand, I'll show you the wild side_

_It's the last night of our lives _

_We'll keep dancing 'til we die_

_I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums_

_Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone_

_So while you're here in my arms,_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

_I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums_

_Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone_

_So while you're here in my arms_

_Let's make the most of the night we're gonna die young_

_We're gonna die young_

_We're gonna die young_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young"_

The cover was slow, and sad, and listening to it made tears come to Rachel's eyes once more -and not because, while Brittany was an amazing dancer, her singing was not the strongest.

The zombies were slowly moving away from the gate.

She did not quite know where the singing was coming from, so she simply stood there, holding the toddler, and waited, pulling the blanket close around them both as the tears fell freely from her face, as the toddler started his own soft crying.

There was not going to be any more death today.

She was starting to shiver when she heard a voice call out softly, "Anyone there?"

Kurt.

"Kurt," she called back, not daring to be too loud.

"Rachel." The relief in his voice was palpable and it made her feel nice. For half a second, at least, until Kurt added, "Is…is Blaine with you?"

Swallowing thickly, she said, "No," then sighed softy, and added, "I'm sure he and Quinn are fine."

"I..I hope so." The disappointment in his voice was even more palpable. Rachel could now make out that he was at the furthest corner from the road, and was making his way around to the front.

"Where's Brittany?" Rachel shifted the toddler, then stepped back into the snow and started making her way to the gate, pointedly avoiding the side where the bodies still laid.

"Leading the zombies away -I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted she was fast and could do it just fine by herself," there was a thread of worry in Kurt's voice.

With cold fingers, Rachel started unwrapping the bungee cord, nearly dropping it when she realized the plastic hooks were cracked and barely hanging on.

If Kurt and Brittany had been any later, Rachel likely wouldn't have had time for her morbid plan.

She looked up at Kurt as he came into view, taking in his ridiculous looking bundle of clothing -not that she had any room to talk, and at least he looked _warm._

"I'm sure she'll be-"

"Awesome?" Brittany chirped, "'Cause I am. Those zombies won't be back here for a while, but we'll be at the cars by then so it's not going to be a problem." The tall blonde girl stepped into Rachel's view, and gave Rachel a brilliant smile. She was dressed similar to Kurt. She turned to Kurt and added, "I told you that all those zombies meant someone was here and it was probably Rachel."

"Along with your sister. And Santana," Rachel said with a soft smile.

Brittany grinned brighter, and stepped closer, "We should get everyone and go to the cars A.S.P.C.A."

"ASAP, Brittany," Kurt mumbled.

Rachel nodded. She felt a little dazed at the rapid pace things were moving, but she was certainly not going to argue about leaving or staying. She stepped aside to allow the pair to enter, and said, "Would it be more prudent to send one or two of us off to the vehicles, then to have us all go? There's a…sled," she felt embarrassed already about having the pair see her cobbled together sled, but it got the job done, "but I'm sure it shall be easier to send one person?"

Brittany shook her head, "The zombies are only going to stay gone for so long. No one should be here when they come back. Plus, what if none of the cars work or something?"

"Fair enough." Rachel was simply too exhausted to suggest it wasn't the easiest way to go, and instead focused on comforting Christopher, who had stopped crying, and had seemingly tired himself out. Hopefully he'd just sleep the entire trek to the cars.

Rachel followed behind the pair, her mind racing with possibilities, and lists of what they would have to bring and what could be left behind.

There was gasp, and Brittany stopped and stared at the bit of blonde hair that stood out since it was surrounded by hair matted with gore and blood.

Rachel had completely forgotten about the two bodies.

"It's not T- it's Stacy," she quietly, then she nodded towards the covered area, "I was not actually able to enter the building, we're over there."

"You couldn't break a window?' Kurt asked skeptically.

"It's made of something unbreakable, and certainly not with what I had available," Rachel replied a little sharply, turning from where she'd been following the pair to the proper path to Santana and the children.

Brittany looked at Rachel and Kurt, and stepped away from the bodies, "I'm really sad it's Stacy, but I'm glad it's not my sister. I feel really bad about that; I'd rather puke once a day for a thousand years then feel like this. Please don't tell Sam, he's going to be really sad as it is. Or Lord Tubbington, he must be feeling really bad he couldn't protect everyone."

"Your feelings are perfectly understandable given the situation Brittany," Rachel couldn't get the image of the hatchet going into Stacy's screaming face over and over. "And of course Lord Tubbington is not to blame, he did the best he could."

Rachel was to blame; Sam was going to justifiably hate her.

* * *

"Quinn," Sam repeated, staring at her. He licked his lips, and looked behind her, "Here, let me help you get in, they'll be faster on the road," He reached a hand out to her, and she took it.

He pulled her towards the driver's side door, and stepped aside while she scurried in.

It was warm in the truck, and for a moment, it reminded her of when she was a few months along in her pregnancy with Beth, riding in Puck's truck with him in the winter, him trying to be casual about convincing her to keep Beth.

"Is Blaine…?" Sam asked as he got in, slamming the door, breaking her away from the memory.

"Blaine and Dahlia are in a tree house, they're safe."

Looking relieved, Sam nodded, "Good, I- _good._"

Quinn held her hands up to the heater vent, dropping the pan and mag lite on the floor near her feet, "We should drive around, honk the horn, and make the zombies follow us so that Blaine can get down."

Probably he was right, and it wouldn't be safe for him to cross a tree limb, and get on the roof with Dahlia.

Sam nodded.

There was silence in the truck as he drove up and down the road honking the horn for a few minutes.

When it looked like they had the majority of zombies, Sam turned down the road, and started leading them away from the house.

"Where the hell have you been, anyway?" Quinn finally asked. If she had the truck when all this had happened, it wouldn't have taken her four days to find everyone. She couldn't help but think of her and Blaine's trek in the night and early morning that finally ended at the tree house, and felt a little bitter at the thought.

"Car problems, fear, and snow?" Sam said. At Quinn's look, he gave her a small sad smile, "So after we got into Puck's truck we just drove. I wanted to go back right away, and see if I could pick anyone up, but there were so many zombies, there had to have been -still _are,_ I guess, hundreds plus the jumping ones and Terri was freaking out. I kinda was too. So as much as it killed me, we kept driving out of town.

We were a few miles away from town when I saw a house, and I pulled into the driveway. Wasn't the first house I'd seen, and I dunno what made me stop there; the house looked sturdy, I guess?

I didn't even notice the cars, or the smoke coming out of the chimney. Tina and I got out to make sure there wasn't, you know, any zombies in the house and the front door opened before we even stepped foot on the porch."

"Cannibals who kept you tied up in the barn?" Quinn asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sam laughed, "No. It was a lady. Alice. She kinda…she kinda reminded me of my mom. She just had that motherly look you know? And there was a kid about Stevie's age peeking out behind her. It was her, her son -Jake, her dad Bob, and her niece who is -_was_ about our age?

We told her what had happened, plus we had Terri, so they let us stay. My plan was to wait until morning, then go out looking for everyone because the zombie's would like, disperse and wander away to wherever they came from? I…don't think any of us were really thinking clearly.

In the morning, the truck wouldn't start. Neither did any of the cars. I'm not a mechanic, I can change oil and tires but that's about it. Bob said he'd help me figure out what was up with the truck. I tried walking towards town, but had to turn back because a bunch of zombies had followed us."

"I don't know how you weren't having a freak out," Quinn muttered.

Sam shrugged, "Terri was freaking out enough for all of us. She couldn't decide between just leaving town entirely, or telling Me and Tina to go find everyone. Anyway, so that whole day we worked on the truck, and Bob got it running again. Of course, it was dark and I was talked into waiting till morning. And then in the morning there was an argument about the chickens, and Alice's son wanted to keep a puppy, and by the time that was sorted out? It was snowing pretty heavily. We felt pretty crappy about it. Oh, and we're down six chickens too."

"What? Don't we need every chicken?" Quinn snapped at him. She was trying not to be irritated at Sam -she didn't want to take her frustration and fear and worry out on him, but so far he wasn't making it easy.

Sam shrugged, "As long as we have a rooster and a hen it'll be fine, just take a while Anyway…I dunno. In hindsight, it was just weird there? Like, there was this tension in the air. Candace, that's Alice's niece, and Bob went outside to go check on some super close neighbors or something. When they came back she was bundled in a blanket and he took her straight down to the basement. The basement. Not that we had a reason to go down there, but the door was locked and Alice got weird if any of us wandered near it -like twitchy. But Candace didn't come up from the basement, and Bob just said there was a bedroom down there, and she was sick so they were keeping her down there so she didn't get Terri and Abby sick.

So, anyway, we're held up in their house -I'd moved the chickens in their garage, and did my best to keep the puppies from pooping on everything, and made sure we kept out of their hair. Alice canned and they had a good harvest from their garden and they didn't mind feeding us, especially because of the chickens. And things were fine. I mean, the three of us were worried about everyone; more than once Tina had to stop me from leaving to try to go find you guys…I don't know what I'm going to do if anyone froze or starved. But yeah, fine as can be anyway.

So as the days went by and Alice started getting more and more agitated; Bob would calm her down, but by this morning she was in full on freak out mode. Started screaming that they were starving, and she needed feed them, to take care of them. I offered another chicken, and she said no. She picked up Abby, and carried her off. Bob followed her, I didn't hear what he was saying, but I dunno, my big brother instincts kicked in, and I followed them, and told Alice to hand Abby back to me.

Alice started freaking out. Bob was trying to calm her down. Alice's son followed me, and kicked me in the shin. He was a bit of a brat." Sam scoffed, "Anyway, I wasn't sure what was going on, but it was freaking me out too so I grabbed for Abby, and Alice punched me." He gestured to his face, "Hit me pretty hard too. This is going to sound awful, but I didn't think any woman not Coach Beiste could hit that hard. Maybe Coach Sue."

"How sexist of you. And I bet Santana could." Quinn said dryly as she shuffled closer to the heater.

Sam nodded, "Probably. Bob was trying to calm Alice down, Tina and Terri came in. Terri got Abby from Alice, while Tina help me because man, like I said, Alice hit me really hard. Bob got Alice in her room, and made Jake go to his room. He explained that the rest of their family; his wife, Alice's husband and other children, Candace and her parents were in the basement locked in the bedroom down there. Alice had a mental break down or something, and refused to accept that they were dead. Bob and Candace had been going out and bringing back "people" to feed them, but it was just actually chunks of other zombies to fool Alice into thinking they were killing people. And it was working fine, until Candace got bit and the snow storm. He confessed that Alice hid parts from the truck and cars because she thought they were going to use us to feed the zombies and she didn't want us leaving. He said he knew it wasn't healthy for Alice, and it was teaching Jake stuff he shouldn't be learning, so he was going to handle it, but we needed to leave as soon as we could because it was a family matter, and who knew what Alice would do. Gave us some blankets, extra clothes, and food, and sent us on our way. So I packed up our stuff and animals, we got in the truck and we drove back towards town. Found a house just on the outskirts and stashed them all there, then started driving around. I've got a rough idea where everyone went, and it's a start. I mean, I already found you guys."

Quinn frowned out the window, "I think we can go get Blaine. You can probably just nudge the backyard's fence with the truck and drive into the yard. And you're really really lucky she didn't try to get any of you while you were sleeping. Or that Bob wasn't nuts too."

"I'll try that," Sam nodded seriously, "Yeah we are pretty lucky."

Quinn, up until now, had been utterly ignoring the little voice in her head that was constantly repeating to her 'Beth is dead. Rachel is dead. Santana is dead. Brittany is dead. They're all dead.' She wrapped her arms around herself, and sat back, staring out the window as Sam started backing into the fence.

She closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths until Sam turned the truck off. She opened the door, and called out, "Blaine!" as she walked through the snow, carefully avoiding the spots she was mostly sure where the bodies and the pond were, Sam trailing behind her, she went to the bottom of the ladder, and called out "Blaine!" again.

He opened the trap door, and looked down at her, "Quinn?"

"Sam found us. We need to go before the zombies come back." Blaine nodded, his shock of dark curly hair bobbing along.

In no time at all, Blaine had handed down a few quickly repacked boxes of supplies, and Dahlia's diaper bag, then had carefully climbed down the tree house's rope ladder.

"Blaine, is she okay?" Sam asked once Blaine was standing next to the truck.

Blaine smiled down at his sister, "Oh your face, that looks painful. Dahlia's great. Quinn and myself, on the other hand…." he gestured to his feet, and explained why he was limping slightly. Quinn tuned them out, staring off into the distance towards the cars.

"We should drop Blaine off with Terri and Tina," she said suddenly, interrupting their conversation, "then go to the cars."

"Uh, I was thinking I'd drop you both off, then go look for everyone else?" Sam said.

She turned to him, and shook her head, "No. No one goes off by themselves, anywhere. Ever. And the cars have our weapons. Actually, cars first, then we drop Blaine off so we can give them something to defend themselves if they need it."

Without waiting for an answer, she stomped off towards the passenger side, and got into the truck.

Wisely, the boys followed her example. Blaine timidly holding his sister while Quinn helped him buckle his seat belt, and Sam starting the truck, a worried look on his face.

* * *

Reuniting with Brittany was almost as good as watching Brittany reunite with her sister. Or her cat.

The hike to the cars sucked; even though Santana was on the sled, surrounded by the bear fur and not actually walking. She had sat with a squirmy Beth on her lap, and a still sobbing Stevie on one side, Kyle on the other and Sarah sitting as far away from Stevie as she could. Rachel had carried Chris, and Brittany had carried her sister.

They had to leave Stacy's body behind. They'd covered her up with a blanket, and Santana felt like screaming into a pillow because the kid had deserved better then snow and a shoddy blanket.

She almost hoped Sam had taken off to Vegas in the truck so she wouldn't have to see him and tell him what happened.

Santana was currently lying in the back of Mack's van, the heat on full blast with various children surrounding her. They could all use a change of clothes, a shower, and an actual bed, but it wasn't so bad right now.

Brittany kept hovering around the van, making sure Santana stayed put instead of watching for zombies or taking care of the cans that had exploded from the cold. There was only a few, but it was a huge mess that had to be cleaned up before they could go. Plus Kurt was checking over the cars.

Santana had demanded that Rachel rest in the van too, earning almost a smile from the shorter girl as Rachel declined saying there'd be plenty of time for her to rest when they were on the road.

Santana wasn't sure they should get on the road; it'd stopped snowing now, sure, but it could start up again at any time and they'd be screwed if they got stuck in the middle of nowhere.

She pulled a bit away from Chris, who was snoring softly next to her, and wiggled towards Sarah who was curled up with a book. Probably it wasn't good for her to be reading in such dim light, but whatever.

She was mashing her pillow down when the back door on the van opened.

Rachel stood there, -still a bit sun burned, but otherwise pale, a bit of hair that looked like a blind man had cut a chunk out of it in the dark fell oddly next to Rachel's face, and Santana really really wanted to comment about it. It'd be a bit of normalcy, but she held off. Maybe tomorrow. Santana blinked at the sudden light coming into the van.

"Sam, Blaine, and Quinn are here." Rachel said softly.

"Awesome," Santana said, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"Dahlia is with them, she's fine. Terri, Tina, and Abby are waiting at a house." Rachel licked her lips, her voice low, "I have not yet told Sam about…Stacy. Please wake up Stevie while I do so?"

Santana shook her head, "No, I'm going to tell him." She started to sit up, gently shoving the children who had infringed on her space as she did so.

"Santana, you…"

Santana grit her teeth, and stared at Rachel. "I have too. I promised him I'd take care of them, and now he's got one less sibling. That's on _me._" If she hadn't been sick, she would have been out there with the kids playing in the snow, she could have saved Stacy.

There was something soft in Rachel's eyes as she nodded, and reached a hand out to help Santana out of the tangle of children. "Perhaps it would be best to let Stevie rest until we are at the house, we should be leaving in mere minutes. I…I'll be in the driver's seat of the van." Then Rachel slipped away as soon as Santana stood on the ground next to the van. It irked her to take help from anyone so so much, and Santana could not wait to be healed of everything and able to take care of herself.

Brittany appeared, was there to help her. No doubt Brittany had heard their conversation.

Brittany reached into the van, and picked up a sleeping Beth, careful to keep a blanket on her. Brittany helped Santana towards where the others were huddled around the truck. "So hell has frozen over? It makes sense. The zombies and all," Brittany said quietly as they slowly walked through the snow.

"We're not friends. I just-" Santana trailed off.

Brittany shrugged, "We're all in this together Santana, and you shouldn't be mean to anyone. Well, maybe Kurt, a tiny bit."

Saving that comment for later, Santana took a deep breath as the other's looked at them as they approached. "Blaine. Your sister not a baby popsicle?"

"She's fine, thank you Santana." Blaine was huddled with Kurt, and the pair resumed whatever lovey dovey crap they were talking about before Santana spoke.

Not that Santana had room to talk, she'd been embarrassingly gushy with Brittany.

"Q," She drawled to Quinn, who was sitting on top of Puck's truck, her gun at her side, and her machete strapped to her leg. Santana looked at the weapons pointedly, "Glad to see you have your priorities in order."

Quinn shrugged, then grinned, and as she slid off the roof, onto the windshield, then the hood, and finally to the ground, she said, "Glad to see you too. Safety is important…those things don't freeze for whatever reason." She stomped towards Santana, and pulled her, then Brittany into tight hugs, before gently taking Beth from Brittany's arms

Leaving her friend to reunite with her lizard baby, Santana turned to Sam.

"Sam…"

He smiled at her. She wanted to make fun of his mouth, or ask him who broke his nose. Anything other then what she was about to say. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then said again, "Sam..."

* * *

A/N: Song is "Die Young" by Ke$ha, with a few modifications by Brittany. Don't own, don't sue.

Schools started, updates are switching to every **first and third Saturdays** of the month. Bonus chapters for enough reviews are still a thing. I don't like reducing the update rate, but I don't want the story quality to suffer because I'm rushed, and I certainly don't want my grades to suffer because I'm writing instead of studying. ;)

I just finished almost all the outline expansion for this story up to the end of "normal mode" and bits into "hard mode". I freaking love this story, and I can't wait to share it all with you!


	27. Me & U

The house Sam had found for Tina and Terri and Abby to stay in while he found the rest of the group was actually a trailer; two small bedrooms, and a bathroom that had numerous soft spots in the floor.

It would do for the night.

Rachel had grown tired of the constant chatter and sharing of stories; no one, not even _Quinn_ had seemed to great her with a hug and an "I missed you," or even a "I was worried about you," that everyone else seemed to have. Tina had given her a smile, but otherwise it was not even as if Rachel was there; as if she had not done so much for the majority of the groups youngest members, and _saved_ Santana.

It made her ache fiercely for Mack.

The finally straw had been when she had asked to hold Dahlia; Blaine had started to hand her over, but Kurt had stopped him and said he wanted to hold her for a while.

Which was perfectly fine, it_ should_ be Blaine and Kurt, not Blaine and Rachel, so she'd told them it was perfectly fine of course, and then made her way to the small, ramshackle back porch to sit. She had a cup of tea, and several blankets.

She was _fine._

Perfectly fine.

In a fit of optimism, Terri and Tina had made dinner and a pot of tea, and it was waiting for them when they'd arrived; Tina had scrambled to make some rice to mix into it, as the pair hadn't been_ that_ optimistic, and there wasn't enough to go around. The dinner was a thick stew that had canned meat in it, so while she knew that logically she needed the protein, tonight she just could not stomach forcing herself to eat meat.

So instead, she had just the tea. She wasn't really hungry anyway.

It was nice, sitting out here alone, in a way. The snow was falling gently, and she was able to ignore her thoughts, and think about nothing. That was not easy for her in the best of times, but she was so exhausted, emotionally and physically, which certainly helped.

She was contemplating going back into the house and getting Christopher, wanting to share this moment with someone; he, at least, would not be withheld from her, and she had certainly grown fond of the toddler, when the back door opened and closed softly, then the person sat down next to her.

Brittany sat in silence, and Rachel continued to sip her tea.

"Thank you," the blonde girl finally said, "Thank you for saving Santana and keeping my sister safe."

"You are welcome…I only wish I could have kept Stacy safe as well." Rachel said, not looking at Brittany, instead staring off into the distance.

"It wasn't your fault Rachel; there was nothing you could have done."

Rachel wanted to believe Brittany, she did.

But the fact was she had failed. Rachel Berry had to be perfect; singing, dancing, acting. The competition for Broadway was intense, and only the best of the best would stand out. And even then, there were still some stars who never got to shine.

Rachel had determined to never be one of those stars who were dull and in the background. And she worked all the time to achieve her goals -at the cost of interpersonal relationships with those around her, at a heavy monetary cost for her parents, at having most normal high school experiences, at having _friends_.

And it'd all been for nothing.

And now, with her only goal in life being to survive, and ensuring those around her survived as well...and she'd failed.

And now a sweet little girl -Sam's sister, was among the millions of others dead.

And she would carry that guilt around with her, a stark reminder that she'd failed in her only goal.

She was also ashamed to wonder if she would have failed at her goal, her _dream, _of Broadway as well.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Brittany added softly, "Sam doesn't blame you," as she stood up.

Before Rachel could answer her, the tall blonde girl was gone and the door was closed.

She was mulling over Brittany's words -and trying to keep the image, the feeling, of bring that hatchet down on that poor little girl when the door opened again, and once more a figure sat next to her.

"Here Rachel…I brought you some soup. I picked all the meat out of it…" Quinn said quietly.

Touched, Rachel set her tea down next to her, reached over and took the warm bowl from Quinn's hands, her fingers brushing the other girl's. "Thank you, it will be nice to warm my hands."

Quinn gently nudged her with her shoulder, "Eat it too. You look like you've lost weight you didn't need to lose."

"I…did try my best to ensure that the children -and then Santana, would have food for however long we were stuck there," Rachel said carefully, tentatively trying a bite.

"That was…pretty dumb, actually. They relied on you, " Quinn leaned backwards, resting on her hands, and stared at Rachel, "So you needed to keep your strength up. Promise me you won't do something like that again."

Rachel sighed, "I certainly hope that I will not be forced to make a choice like that again."

"That's not a promise. You have to focus on you, Rachel, and take care of yourself."

"No, it is not a promise." Rachel ignored Quinn's second sentence -Finn calling her selfish repeating through her mind, being told over and over again by the other New Directions that she only thought about herself.

They sat in silence for several minutes while Rachel ate, before Rachel tentatively asked, "May I sleep next to you and Beth?"

She didn't want to be alone, which was odd, because the last few nights she'd wished for nothing more than to sleep without anyone with her.

Then again, she'd actually be wishing for her own bed, her parents in their room down the hall.

"Rachel…I don't know…what if someone says something?" came Quinn's soft reply. It was like a dagger to Rachel's heart.

"Yes Quinn, I am sure the others would undoubtedly assume you have non-heterosexual feelings for me from the act of sleeping next to each other, and immediately cast you out of the group. Because of course, they did the same to Kurt and Blaine, and Santana and Brittany." Rachel said emotionlessly, "Thank you for the soup, I would like you to leave -I wish to be alone."

"Rachel, I- " Quinn started to say as she stood up.

Rachel interrupted her, looking the pink haired girl in the eyes, "I had to use a small, blunt weapon on Stacy -up close, and personal. I was forced too, so she would not eat her brother, or anyone else. Every time I close my eyes, I see it over and over again. She was so sweet, and did not deserve to die." Her voice broke, and she had to take a few deep breaths before she managed to continue, "She did not deserve to be left out in the snow, like she was unwanted and unloved. It has been a very long six weeks, Quinn. And, while I am sympathetic to your issues regarding your feelings for me, I, to be frank, do not have time nor the inclination to baby you through accepting yourself. I am very sorry about that, but it is quite possible I could die at any time. You are not the only one with their issues, Quinn -and as you said, I need to focus on me, and take care of myself. I will not pine after you; I want to be with you. I am fully over Finn, you cannot use him as an excuse either. If you do not want the same, here, now, then very well."

Quinn was silent as she turned from Rachel, and went to the door.

Blinking back tears, Rachel managed to add, "Very well. I shall be taking over Christopher's care. With just Abby and Beth, things should be far easier on you. Please do not be so cold to Abby -she is quite sweet, and nothing like your sister."

Quinn opened the door, and Rachel added softly enough for only the pink haired girl to hear, "Or you."

* * *

Brittany had already taken care of Christopher, so Rachel had no one to focus on but herself.

She'd managed a bath with a pot of snow heated till it was almost warm, a wash rag and twenty careful minutes in the small bathroom. It wasn't much, really, but feeling mostly clean, and using her own shampoo and conditioner was a comfort -even if it'd been awkward to wash her hair. She'd used her own toothbrush and vegan, all natural tooth paste too, and it was a further comfort that almost made things feel okay for another minute.

If she was being practical, she'd cut her hair short. It'd be logical. It was missing an awkward chunk anyway.

She caressed the thick braid, remembering how her Daddy would braid it each night when she was little, how her Papa would gently tweak it when he'd say goodnight.

No. She'd keep her hair.

That night, she slept poorly, curled in her sleeping bag by herself in a corner of the living room.

In the morning she woke up groggy, and tired. After taking care of her morning tasks, (and it was still so lovely to brush her teeth with her own toothpaste and brush,) she'd gathered Christopher up from where he was just starting to wake up near Brittany, and set about taking care of him -even repacking his bag, and gathering a few items for him from Beth's things.

The pair were unbothered by the others as slowly more and more people woke up, and they started preparing to leave, eating leftover stew for breakfast, repacking the cars and constantly looking outside to see how the weather was, and if any unfrozen zombies had made their way towards them.

Tina and Terri had decided on, of all places, Wyoming. Upper Wyoming.

Rachel thought this was foolish. It would take days of driving normally, and much longer now given the weather and snow on the road. They could stay in Elena instead; find a home that would keep them warm and safe, and break into the houses and stores. She understood why everyone was anxious to leave Elena behind, but it would be far safer and easier if they stayed. Not to mention while the spare population of Wyoming meant, hopefully, less zombies, it would also mean less supplies for them to gather.

The clear weather would only hold out for so long, (it was snowing lightly again this morning but that could easily change to a full blown snow storm) and the fact that the snow was still on the road, chances are they weren't going to make very good time.

And in the spring, they could bury Stacy if they stayed.

Finally, everyone was ready to go; Rachel put Christopher's car seat in the passenger seat in the van, and made herself a spot in the back. Tina would drive first.

She'd managed to speak exactly five words total to anyone besides Christopher.

* * *

"What do you mean Terri's in labor?" Tina said, more than a little panicky.

Kurt nibbled at his fingers, wide eyed, "It means we need to get off the road, she's going to have a baby."

"Is there…isn't it too early? Is there something wrong with it?" Sam asked quietly, brushing some snow off the map that sat on the hood of the car they were gathered around.

"She is roughly 38 weeks along," Rachel said quietly, "Theoretically the baby should be fine…" She still couldn't look at Sam, so she focused on the map.

They'd been on the road for nearly the whole day -stopping only for a quick snack or bathroom break here and there; they were nearly out of fuel and had gathered to decide what to do when Kurt had told them about Terri.

Given how far away from Elena they were, compared to the number of hours they'd been driving, Rachel was certain they should have stayed put.

They certainly weren't going to make it to Wyoming any time soon.

"Alright, alright, so according to the map, we're about…ten minutes from Millsfield, South Dakota. So it'll take us what, forty-five? An hour? To get there," Sam said, his finger tracing the road they'd take, his voice without the good humor in it Sam usually always had.

Rachel wasn't in charge of leading them along the road, but if she was she would not have taken them through South Dakota instead of just straight through Nebraska -she would have risked going past larger cities and the handful of military bases they'd bypassed.

But no had asked for her thoughts, and she had not voiced them.

Quinn shrugged, "So what are we doing to do once we get there?"

Rachel frowned, and forced herself to speak, "We need a building that is preferably on the outskirts of town, has a fireplace, and enough space for us all to be comfortable. I do not imagine we'll be able to easily leave until winter is over, especially with a newborn, so it is imperative we have enough room for everyone, and the supplies we'll need."

Sam nodded, "Alright, we'll get to Millsfield and drive around the outskirts and see what we can see."

"It's going be a bigger town then Elena…" Quinn trailed off, "So just everyone keep an eye out, first sign of anything….we're gone. We'll find a different town. It's not like there aren't a million small towns around."

Rachel ignored the look Quinn gave her as they dispersed back to the vehicles.

* * *

It did in fact take an hour to get to Millsfield. They had split up at the first house they found that would be okay for Terri, Santana and the children to wait for them safely, then gone off to find someplace suitable.

Kurt and Blaine had found the apartment building.

Located next to a large park near the river, it was four stories tall, had a large parking lot and a small grassed area in front, all of which was surrounded by a tall chain length fence -sure, the driveway wasn't gated, but they could always park a car in front of it.

It was brick, and had a small stoop. It meant that the first floor windows were too high up for anything or one to easily climb in them.

Rachel and Tina had not found anything nearly as nice.

There was a chimney on the roof, which indicated there was at least one fireplace in the building.

And it was on the outskirts of town, surrounded by several houses and a squat apartment building with a small garage across the street.

Rachel admired the building as they stood in front of it, Mack's tire iron in her gloved hand, and her rifle slung across her back, spare ammunition in a pocket.

"Are we ready?" Quinn asked the group gathered at the door silently.

Nods, and quiet yes's answered her.

"Alright. So we go in, we check everywhere -closets, under beds, whatever. _Everywhere._ We make sure the apartment is clear, then we move on to the next one. We don't need to clean, take out bodies, or get supplies -we just make sure it's safe first. The rest will come later after we pick which floor we'll take over, and get Terri, Santana and the kids settled. Don't do anything stupid, don't take any unneeded risks." Quinn finished with a glare, her eyes raking over everyone, lingering on Blaine.

Quinn lead the way inside, and looked around carefully before saying quietly, "Looks like it's only two apartments a floor. "

The pink haired girl frowned, then added, "Tina, Rachel, Kurt, Blaine, take that one, Sam, Brittany, and I will take the other."

The four of them stood still for a second as Quinn's words sunk in, none of them moving towards the door, which in the dim light seemed shadowy and ominous.

After a few moments, Blaine, standing up a bit straighter, led the way. Kurt followed closely behind him.

The door was locked.

Wordlessly, Blaine looked at Rachel. She was confused for a moment, before she remembered she had the crowbar.

She highly doubted they'd pick this floor, and if they did the door could be replaced. The doors_ should_ be replaced; the important ones, anyway, should be replaced with thick metal doors.

It took a few minutes, and eventually Blaine and Kurt both had to help her, but she got the door open.

The air inside the apartment smelled like musty cigarettes and rot. The four of them huddled together and walked as one across a carpet that badly needed to be vacuumed; the walls, even in the dim light, were noticeably stained a slight yellow color. Rachel wrinkled her nose, wishing she had a freehand that wasn't clutching the crowbar, to hold it closed, sure she was undoubtedly getting third hand smoke inside her body.

The rotten smell was coming from the closed bathroom door -after they finished walking through the small one bedroom apartment, Blaine tentatively reached a hand out, and opened the door.

They stared inside it, then Blaine gently closed the door again.

Rachel felt like throwing up. Whoever it was that had lived here had killed themselves in the tub, and was mostly a rotten slurry that was now frozen.

"That's going to be a pain to clean up," Blaine muttered as they carefully went through back through the apartment.

"Do we have to? Can't we just close up this apartment and forget about it?" Kurt asked hopefully.

Tina shook her head, "No."

Rachel added quietly, "We cannot leave such a biohazard around, even if it is frozen at the moment." She wrapped her arms around herself carefully, the sweater she was wearing not doing nearly enough in the chilly air. She'd picked it to wear for this specifically, since unless they encountered no zombies it would end up blood stained and ruined -it was a particularly itchy one her father had knitted her, one of many, and she had no particular attachment to it as it was his second attempt and she had several more of his work. She'd left the over large hoodie in the car with Christopher, as she'd thought he'd looked cold once she'd moved him from the van to the SUV they'd gathered the children into.

Kurt sighed audibly as they stood in the landing, leaving the door to the apartment open.

"All I'm saying is that it'd save a little work if we bring stuff out now and leave it…I dunno, in front of the door? Before we move on to the next floor." Sam was saying as the other group left their apartment. All three of them had blood drops on their clothing.

Quinn shook her head, "No. Terri, Santana and the kids are waiting. There will be time to go through each apartment and take what we need later Sam." The pink haired girl turned towards them, "How'd it go?"

Blaine answered for them, "Just a body. It was fine."

"Except perhaps third hand smoke." Rachel added quietly.

Quinn managed a wry grin, "Good. Come on." And she lead the way up the stairs.

The second floor also contained two apartments. Once more, they were split up, and once more Rachel found herself crow baring a door with Kurt's assistance, then as a group entering the apartment.

This time, thankfully, no musty smell of cigarette smoke greeted them. Rachel only had a second to appreciate it before, with several growls, a trio of zombies approached them. The family who had lived here.

Blaine and Kurt immediately headed for the biggest one, the father, the iron cast iron pan in Blaine's hand raised high as Kurt went low with his bread knife.

Tina went for the other adult; what had once been a woman with long, pretty blonde hair. Tina had no issues bring her baseball bat hard on the head until it stopped moving.

That left the smaller zombie for Rachel. She raised her crowbar, intent on putting it down quickly, before she nearly dropped her weapon.

The zombie was -had been, a little girl about Stacy's age.

Rachel froze.

She stood there, replaying Stacy's turning and Rachel using her hatchet on the small girl over and over as she stared at the zombie.

Tina quickly took care of the corpse with her baseball bat, the body so small it only took one hard hit. Then, the black haired girl looked at Rachel with concern.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly as Blaine and Kurt finished off their zombie, they were using the time to try to figure out the best way to work together.

"No," Rachel replied, still staring at the now still form of what had once been a little girl, "No I am most assuredly not okay."

* * *

The third floor contained an empty apartment, and an apartment with a lot of children's things -likely it was a daycare or something.

Thankfully, it was empty of zombies, children or otherwise.

The fourth floor was one large apartment, also empty. The fact that it had a fireplace cemented that this was where they were going to stay.

They'd helped Terri into the smallest bathroom, (it had two, and four bedrooms) setting her up in the tub. It looked as new and as shiny as the rest of the apartment. She'd immediately demanded to be helped out, and was currently walking back and forth through the apartment.

The general assumption was that the apartment had been newly remodeled and was almost done. There was a pile of paint brushes, tarps, and paint cans in the corner, and the walls looked primed and ready for that finishing coat.

Quinn had spent the drive mulling over Rachel's words over and over -when she wasn't concentrating on driving, trying to rest, or dealing with Beth trying to destroy anything she could get her hands on, whether it was a map Quinn managed to take from her just in time, or Abby or Tiffany's coloring books, or Sarah's book.

She was a coward. Rachel was right -she could die tomorrow. Quinn could die tomorrow. And the group certainly wasn't going to tell her she was going to hell or kick her out because she and Rachel were together.

She'd just spent so much time pretending to be something she had desperately wanted to be instead of what she was that if was just so hard to admit it to herself, let alone anyone else.

So she hadn't even answered Rachel, even as she'd imagined the three of them as one happy family. Her, Rachel, and Beth.

Then Rachel had sucker punched her when she'd talked about Chris and Abby. And Quinn felt awful, because she was treating them like...like they were a burden she didn't want.

Because they _were._

She didn't _want _to have to focus energy and time on her sister's children -she was having enough trouble with Beth.

When she'd been reunited with her daughter yesterday, time had seemed to stand still. Until Beth started wiggling away and crying for her momma. It seemed like they'd take three big steps back in their relationship in the five days they'd been separated.

Never again. _Never._

She'd wanted her daughter back almost as much as she wanted Rachel, and had been to petrified at the thought of anything happening to her to even allow herself to think about Beth, and it'd been crushing when her baby had tried to get away from her, asking for _Shelby. _

She shook her head, determined to think about nothing but getting things safe and ready for them to settle in, and for Terri to have her baby.

"Come on Santana, just one more flight of stairs left," she murmured to Santana, the Latina girl leaning on her. Behind them, Brittany, holding Beth and Abby's hand, while Tiffany held Abby's other hand, trailed behind them. Each girl child had her own things, struggling to bring them up four flight of stairs. Behind them, Sarah followed, carrying Beth's diaper bag in addition to her belongings.

"I think I'll take one of the first floor apartments instead," Santana managed to say weakly, breaking out into a coughing fit. "This sucks," she muttered. Quinn didn't feel too badly for her, really -Santana had managed to find the strength during one of their rest stops to get out of Quinn's SUV, and brave the weather to go to Kurt's SUV, and dig around his suitcases till she found his favorite McQueen scarf and tied it around a tree branch near where they were parked. All without Kurt or Blaine noticing. Then she'd crowed about it to him at the next stop, and told him never to call Brittany stupid again.

"You'll be better soon," Quinn reassured her, "Watch your step," she added as they came to the hallway that lead to the apartment. "See, we're there."

"We get the master bedroom," Brittany pointed out to Santana as Quinn opened the door. Three of the four bedrooms were roughly the same size, with one being a smudge smaller than the other two. The master bedroom was easily twice as big, but even then that wasn't saying much. Quinn didn't think very much of whoever planned the layout to the apartment.

Quinn helped Santana to a spot in front of the fire place, out of the way, stopping a moment to help the other girl rewrap her shawl around her tighter as she tried to thaw out. They had a very small amount of wood that had been quickly gathered; it wasn't burning well, and wasn't doing much besides casting long shadows in the living room and ensuring they didn't freeze to death right away. But then again, the hike up four flights of stairs was enough to keep most of them warm for a little while.

"There's no furniture, " Santana grumbled, finally dropping the bag she'd been holding and relaxing slightly.

"There is in the other apartments, we can move mattresses up tonight and maybe tables and chairs," Quinn responded, starting to help Brittany set up Beth's play pen.

"We're going to head out and find some firewood after we get the chickens set up in the empty apartment downstairs," Sam said, nodding to Blaine and Kurt.

"What, don't want to be here for the miracle of life?" Santana drawled, managing to nod towards Terri who was leaning against the kitchen counter, loudly doing her breathing, before going into a coughing fit.

Quinn figured she'd caught a small cold in addition to her infection. Nothing they could do about it besides keep the kids away from Santana -colds just had to run their course.

"Uh, not really." Sam admitted.

"Same." Kurt shrugged.

"We need to find firewood before it starts snowing again," Blaine said simply, "Who knows how long the snow will last?"

"Plus you get to avoid lugging the rest of the stuff up here," Quinn said dryly. They'd gotten the cars unpacked, and a good portion of their things up here already, but there was still a lot to do. As soon as they had everything up here and vaguely organized, they needed to start going through the apartments for anything they need, moving furniture up here, and cleaning up the bodies.

Sam stated simply, "Not really, still have to bring the wood up." Quinn wondered when he'd smile again.

He'd been absolutely gutted to learn about his sister. Quinn, if she was being honest, had been too.

It was her fault; if she hadn't been so eager to let Matilda take charge and if she had ran after Rachel like she'd wanted too…she could have dragged Blaine with her; it would have worked out.

"Be careful. Blaine don't hurt yourself," she said, nodded at his feet. He probably needed stitches in a few spots, but there just hadn't been any time to do them. Hopefully later tonight or tomorrow Tina would be able to look at them.

"You should leave now, if you do not you may not return before it's dark," Rachel said softly, not looking at any of the boy's. Then she resumed changing Dahlia's diaper.

"Thanks again," Blaine said to her, and Kurt added his own agreements.

Quinn thought that was bullshit -Rachel had done most of Dahlia's care, now all of a sudden she was just the babysitter?

Whatever.

They had too much to handle right now, but someone was going to talk to Blaine about it -either it was going to be Rachel herself, or it was going to be Quinn. Rachel seemed pretty adamant that she was going to take care of Chris instead, and Quinn…Quinn was worried about her.

"Alright, go already. We'll finish bringing stuff in to at least the lobby, and try to make some food, and warm it up a bit in here," Quinn said, irritated on Rachel's behalf. She picked up Beth and set the toddler in her playpen, putting a few stuffed animals and toys she wouldn't need supervision to play with in with her. Biting her lip, and she looked over to Rachel, trying to decide if she should put her nephew in with Beth. Chris was playing quietly by himself next to Rachel, and occasionally demanded the brunette look at whatever toy he held out to her, so Quinn decided to hold off on interrupting them.

"Yeah, uh, we'll go," Blaine said carefully, and limping slightly, lead the other two out of the apartment.

* * *

_Rachel's mouth opened, "Quinn. Quinnnnn. I want you Quinn," blood flowed from Rachel's mouth, as her grasping hands pulled Quinn close. "Kiss me Quinnnnn" _

Quinn awoke with a start. Breathing deeply, and trying not to wake the sleeping toddler next to her, or the other people surrounding her, she sat up.

They'd ended up eating a meal of not quite fully cooked rice, and deciding to just all sleep in the living room for last night -Sam, Blaine, and Kurt had finally returned a few hours after dark with a truck load of wood, then they'd all spent another hour getting it inside, and some of it upstairs. The boys had a gaggle of zombies following them by the time they had found good firewood, so they'd lead the zombies further away before coming back.

Early morning light flickered through the blankets they'd tacked to the window. She sat there, trying not to think of her parents, as one by one she watched the sleeping people surrounding her wake up.

Santana sat up, looked around, before curling back up into Brittney's back, who was protectively wrapped around Tiffany and Abby. Brittney turned her head slightly, and whispered something to Santana. Lord Tubbington was curled up in between Santana and Quinn, yawned and stared fixedly at Santana.

Terri was already up, and still in labor, and pacing back and forth in the kitchen, rubbing her belly and cursing not as quietly as she could have been. The woman had been in labor for over twelve hours now or so, depending on what time it was, hadn't been able to keep anything down but a few sips of water here and there, hadn't been able to get much sleep, and didn't have any pain medicine.

Say what you will about Terri -and Quinn could say plenty about her, but everyone felt pretty awful for her.

There was the unspoken thread of fear through the whole group that something was going to happen to Terri, her baby, or both that they just didn't have the knowledge or skills to handle.

Sarah was still sleeping, the poodle puppy in her arms, curled up next to Beth, and Quinn reached over and pulled the blanket up around her and the dog idly.

Sam was quietly reading a story to Stevie, who was clutching the lab mix that'd unofficially become his puppy and Kyle.

Kurt and Blaine were curled up against each other, whispering as Kurt fed Dahlia. Next to them was Rachel, who was simply stretching and humming low enough that Quinn could barely hear it; Chris next to her trying, and failing, to emulate Rachel's stretches, making both Rachel and Tina (who was sitting a few feet away with a book she wasn't really reading) smile. That least puppy was watching Rachel with a confused look on her face that made Quinn's fingers itch for her drawing supplies, and time to draw.

She finally stood up, careful not to jostle the sleeping kids, or step on anyone, and walked the few feet to the fireplace, where she poked the embers with a log, then added the log to the fire.

They'd set some cinder blocks in the fire place and using that, plus a grill, they had an okay enough place to cook, and Quinn quickly started boiling snow someone, likely Sam, had already gathered and placed in several pots.

"Quinn," Terri moaned quietly, catching the pink haired girls attention.

She crossed the living room quickly, and reached out and started rubbing the older woman's back.

"How are you doing?" She asked quietly.

"I had a c-section planned, and was looking forward to the painkillers. How do you think I feel," Terri hissed, then started moaning quietly and trying to breath.

"Just breath through them," Quinn said, wincing a bit when Terri clutched at her hand, squeezing it.

Since Quinn was the only one how had given birth, she'd been the one constantly getting up throughout the night to see how Terri was doing, and to alert the others if the baby decided to make her appearance.

Once the contraction passed, tears fell from Terri's eyes, "It hurts so much. And it's taking so long, I'm _worried_ Quinn."

Quinn shook her head, "The baby is fine. _She_ is fine. She's just taking her time. Plus, you're a little older. That's the only reason things are taking so long Terri." Quinn didn't know that for sure -but she did know it wouldn't help things if she was _honest_ with Terri. They weren't doctors, or nurses. Just a bunch of teenagers, several of whom had take first aid classes, one who had a few more specific classes and one who had given birth too. For all they knew it was too soon, and something was terribly wrong. But Quinn was mostly certain Terri and her baby would be okay.

"Um, let me check and see how things are going, okay?"

Once she finished getting up close and personal with Terri's lady parts -a sight she would rather have never seen, and determined Terri was only a bit more dilated then last time Quinn had checked, she left the woman with stern reminders not to push, no matter what, since her water wasn't even broke yet, in the kitchen practicing her breathing.

Quinn was heavily medicated when she gave birth to Beth. And it'd only taken four hours of labor -only fifteen minutes of which she had actually spent pushing. So really, Quinn didn't think she was much help, but the others had handed her the reigns anyway, and there wasn't much she could do about it.

What she wanted to do was curl up and go back to sleep. But she couldn't -there was too much to do.

"Tina," when Tina looked up at her, Quinn quietly added, "Do we have any sleeping pills?" Just like Quinn was in charge of Terri, Tina was in charge of their first aid kit.

"There's some Benadryl. Not much, but that's it." The Asian girl replied quietly, "Are you sure it's okay to give any to her?"

She really wished they'd all stop treating her like she was an expert on all things birth.

Quinn shrugged, "I don't know. I'm going to heat up a can of broth and try to get her to keep it down. She needs to rest, and she needs to eat something. She's not far along enough yet for the baby to come, so it'll probably be okay?"

Tina nodded, "Alright. We're really low on everything, and we really need some medical books," she muttered as she stood up to go get the Benadryl.

After setting up a can of chicken broth to heat up, tossing the last bit of rice in it at the last minute, Quinn peaked out the window.

It was snowing hard.

Great.

Hoping they had gathered enough firewood, she gathered everyone but Terri into the master bedroom, where they wouldn't disturb the sleeping children.

Coach Sue's pep talk right after she made Quinn head Cheerio went through her head. Even after a few years, she still remembered it word for word.

"Alright," she started, then paused, licking her lips. "We're not going to be able to leave the building, too much snow. As soon as there's a break…how much wood did you say was left, Sam?"

_Leadership, being a great leader, Fabray, is about fear, respect, and convincing them you know what you're doing. _

_How you get fear is obvious. Or it should be. The key is to not let them fear you too little, or too much. It's a delicate balance. _

Kurt was the one who answered, "A few more truck loads. Three maybe?"

"And that was only one place, there's more out there," Sam added.

"Okay. As soon as there's a break we'll send a couple of people out to get another truck load, maybe all of them if there's time. We'll need it eventually. So for today, we'll just focus on getting the rest of our things from downstairs, moving more firewood up, and getting what we need from the other apartments," she continued after a pause.

Rachel raised her hand, and Quinn had a moment to think about how adorable that was, and then another moment to feel the terror of responsibility curse through her before she softly said, "Rachel?"

"As the empty apartment below us is devoted to the chickens, I believe we should use the other apartment for storage once it is sufficiently emptied. I believe it would be more comfortable if we are not overly crowded with items and boxes in our living space," The smaller girl said quietly, but clearly, then resumed playing with Chris's hair, who was in the baby backpack she'd snagged from Beth's things. The chubby toddler looked too big for her small form, but Rachel managed well enough -she was strong.

_Respect? You let them think they have a say, you listen to their ideas, and you use them if they're better then what you could have came up with -give them acknowledgement, then take the credit without them realizing it._

Kurt snorted, "There's no way we'll be crowded in here Rachel."

Quinn shook her head, "No, Rachel's right. Once we get tables and chairs and maybe a couch in here, there's only going to be so much room. And I don't even know how we're going to split the bedrooms up…" Quinn muttered, frowning as she tried to work it out. Obviously her, Brittany, and Santana would share the master bedroom with Abby, Beth, Tiffany and Sarah -it'd be a smudge too crowded, but one of the apartments she'd help search had a bunk bed, so that'd help a lot.

_That's how I became Head Coach. I started out as assistant to the assistant coach, and it took me one year to become the head. Because I know what it takes to become a winner, and Coach Harold didn't. Plus I don't fornicate with any of you as soon as you graduate. Shame those pictures made it to the principal, superintendant, every parent's workplace, and press. _

"I pondered about that when I could not sleep last night," Rachel said, "Terri and her baby get the smallest one that's closest to the fireplace, Sam, Stevie, and Kyle share a room, Tina, myself, and Christopher share one, and obviously you, Brittany, Santana, Tiffany, Beth, Abby and Sarah share the master. And we could gather bookcases, and set them up in a corner and make a room for Kurt, Blaine and Dahlia. Besides additional storage and privacy, since they're in the living room it'll be warmer for Dahlia. Or perhaps that's the room Terri could take, and Kurt and Blaine could take the smallest bedroom instead."

"That's a good idea. Any objections?" When no one spoke up, Quinn continued, looking at Kurt and Blaine, "Do you guys want the bookcase room, or the smallest bedroom?"

_Convincing them you know what you're doing? The key to that is picking good minions. Your left and right hands. Pierce is a good choice. Lopez is gonna be a challenge -she'll keep you on your toes, because she thinks she wants what you've got. _

_But she'd be worse at it then a deaf mute on American Idol; she's too sharp, got too much of an edge, to be leader of the Cheerios. I'd vote that girl president of the United States though, by the end of her second term she'd be the president of the United States of the World -if she didn't get us nuked first. _

Before Kurt could say anything, Blaine quickly said, "We'll take the bookcase room."

Quinn nodded, "Okay."

_Don't disappointment me, Quinn Fabray, and make me regret making a freshman Captain of the Cheerios. I don't think you will -I think you'll be great. You've got what it takes to be a great leader -almost as good as me. _

"That's good, because Terri's baby might be loud so she should have real walls," Brittany said as she made Santana sit down, then sat down cross-legged next to her.

Quinn shrugged, and sat down too, prompting everyone else to follow.

"So…Tina, you said we're getting low on medical stuff?"

Tina nodded.

"We'll probably find more stuff when we search the apartments -I bet the one below us has a ton of kid medicine, since it was a daycare or whatever. And diapers."

"Are we going to start bringing stuff up, or furniture first?"

"Uh…furniture I guess?"

"We still need to remove the bodies and clean up," Rachel gently pointed out.

Quinn nodded. "Right. First thing we'll do is move the bodies and clean up, and maybe get an idea of what's in where. Then we'll figure out what furniture we want and where. Then we'll -starting with the daycare, go through and get what we'll need."

"But first, breakfast," Kurt sighed, "Oatmeal?"

"Oatmeal. We don't have much else. Hopefully we can find some honey, oatmeal and honey is awesome." Brittany said.

"We should perhaps make a thorough of supplies once we are done gathering from the apartments. It's important to know what we have at all times, and therefore know what we'll need to find elsewhere." Rachel prompted.

"I'll leave you in charge of that Rachel," Quinn said, and Rachel nodded.

"Anything else on anyone's mind?"

"Besides the ever present dangers of zombies?" Kurt asked.

"I've got something," Santana coughed, "Anyone else think Terri's baby is gonna look like Coach Tanaka?"

* * *

Last night, in addition to planning out how the bedroom split-ups should go, Rachel had also made a list of things they should get -black out curtains, sturdy locks, metal doors, carbon monoxide detectors.

Her Papa had bought and installed acoustic sound proofing in Rachel's room that had matched her décor so that her early morning singing practice did not interrupt their sleep. If they could find it, they should use it. The children were children, and could not be expected to remain quiet at all times. And Terri's baby would no doubt be much more of a crier then Dahlia.

Rachel stood up from where she'd been bent over cleaning, and stretched, her back popping slightly as she did.

The bodies had been removed from the building rather quickly, all things considered, and placed a few blocks away, despite the heavy snow. They'd felt it was worth it to go out into it to ensure the bodies were far away from them. Then everyone had split up to clean; someone going to check on Santana, Terri, and the children every so often.

Still smelling the faint smell of bleach in her nostrils, (they'd found a bottle in every occupied apartment, which had made it the easy choice to clean with), Rachel rinsed her hands off in a bucket of melted snow, wincing at the ice cold feeling.

Adjusting the towel she wore around her face to keep the cigarette stench from bothering her too much, she set about opening cupboards to gather the food inside, quickly realizing that the previous occupant of this apartment didn't have much in them besides some stale cereal and a few cans of peaches.

And anything else they could use -furnishings, or linens or clothing, would all stink of nicotine and be useless without a through washing.

Which, obviously, they couldn't do. Or at least not easily.

Sighing, she gathered up her cleaning supplies, opened a window and dumped the bleach water out, then rinsed that bucket with the melted snow from the other bucket, dumping it out as well. She closed the window carefully, then set the five cans of peaches inside the empty snow bucket, stacking that neatly inside the other bucket.

Taking a deep breath, she set the cleaning supplies down and, holding her nose, opened the refrigerator.

A horrible stench escaped, and without even seeing if there was anything salvageable utterly disgusted, she slammed the door shut.

This apartment was useless.

She almost wondered if it had been someone else to clean and search it, would it had been more fruitful?

No, no she mustn't think like that -it was ridiculous, and just her putting herself down. What was in the apartment was what was in the apartment, and who looked through it was not going to change it.

She was just closing the door when Quinn came out of the other apartment, and set down a pile of blankets and linen. The pink haired girl left the door open, and Rachel assumed she'd had more luck.

"Rachel," Quinn said quietly, darting a glance up towards the second floor, "I want to talk to you, can you come in here?"

Rachel turned to Quinn. "I do not believe we have anything to say to each other, Quinn."

Quinn's eyes were soft, and she looked imploringly at Rachel, "We do, actually. Please?"

Pursing her lips, Rachel sighed and set down the things in her arms, a quote from Little Women running through her head,_ "Boys are trying enough to human patience, goodness knows, but girls are infinitely more so."_ She'd never had this much emotion and upset with Finn or Jesses -even given the egg incident. Well, comparatively anyway, considering the world was now filled with deadly creatures who wanted to_ eat_ you. Relationships should be far easier now than before, with the constant threat of death.

"You have four minutes," Rachel said once they were in the other apartment -a considerably nicer one then the Rachel had just been in, even if there was a persistent smell of an unclean litter box lingered, a smell that almost covered up the faint traces of the dead cats and zombie rot.

Quinn closed the door firmly, and took a deep breath, "I can't let you take care of Chris."

Rachel felt herself freeze up, and she opened her mouth to protest before Quinn continued, "He's my nephew, and I haven't been treating him or Abby as well as I should be."

"As well as you should be? Quinn, you are acting like you're the head Cheerio and they're…they're _me._ All you need is a slushy," Rachel said icily.

Quinn winced, "I'm…I just can't stop looking at them and seeing Frannie. What she did to Mack…"

"What_ Frannie_ did to Mack. They are innocent children. And two toddlers and a two year old are too much for any one person to handle, Quinn."

"I…I want to take care of all three of them _with you,_ Rachel," Quinn said, not meeting Rachel's eyes.

Just like she'd supposedly been taking care of Dahlia with Blaine. "That is a nice gesture, Quinn. But what will the other's think?" She replied coldly.

Quinn flinched, "I'm working on it? Okay. It's not hard. I don't expect you to baby me -I just want time."

Rachel shook her head, "Time is one luxury we do not have. We could die tomorrow."

"We aren't going to. We can't really leave the building, and there aren't any zombies in here." Quinn said a bit desperately, "And I won't let you die, Rachel Berry."

She wanted to care for Chris. She wanted someone who would miss her. Who would love her. She didn't want to be alone.

She wanted something tangible, that was within her reach, that wouldn't be ripped away from her. A dream that wouldn't be burned, ashes floating away on the wind while Rachel stood there desperately trying to grasp something that was gone forever.

Rachel wanted Quinn.

Rachel turned towards Quinn, "That is sweet of you, even if it's unlikely that you can stop me from dying if it's my time." After a pregnant pause, she added, "How much time?"

Looking surprised, Quinn said, "Winter? First sign of Spring, if I haven't done so already, I'll tell everyone."

"And what do I do if you do not tell them. What do I do when you say you aren't ready, that you need more time?"

Rachel didn't want to be Quinn's dirty little secret.

She didn't.

But she also did not want to be alone.

"You tell them," Quinn said softly, looking Rachel in the eyes.

Rachel sighed, "I am quite sure I would not be able to if you did not wish it, but...very well."

The stood in silence, both of the registering what had just happened, before Quinn stepped closer to Rachel.

"How are you?" Quinn asked, gentle and lovingly. It was a through shock to Rachel's system, that sent a thrill through out here.

"I'm so tired, Quinn." Rachel whispered.

"Me too." Tentatively, Quinn wrapped an arm around Rachel's waist. Rachel relaxed slightly, leaning a bit into the pink haired girl. "I think it'll be Thanksgiving soon. We should do something nice."

"It is November fourth. So we will have time to plan something. And there is also Christmas too. The children..."

Quinn snorted, "Santana already said she'd go loot a toy store by herself if she needed too. Thanks for what you did for her, by the way."

"I know there's a heart of gold in Santana, even if she acts like a…"

"A bitch."

"Well, yes."

They stood in silence for several minutes, just enjoying the closeness, before Quinn reluctantly pulled away.

"Brittany's going to come help you soon," Quinn said, "I want to kiss you Rachel. But I just can't risk someone seeing…it can't really be explained away."

Rachel sighed, "That is certainly going to get tiring."

Quinn wrapped her arms around herself, "I know. I'm sorry. I just…"

Rachel nodded, "Yes, yes. I do understand, even if I do not like it. I think, perhaps, I have been too harsh on you."

"No," Quinn shook her head, "Not harsh enough. I didn't even say anything to you when we got to the house. I was just so overwhelmed by the fact that everyone was okay, and Beth was okay, and I-"

"Not everyone," Rachel said gently, tears springing to her eyes. "Stacy is dead. I failed at protecting her, and she's dead. And now every time I close my eyes…"

"Oh Rachel. I feel like a failure because of Stacy's death. Santana too. Sam, especially. Even Sarah does. We all feel guilty for that, but I can tell you that no one, including Sam, blames you." Quinn wrapped both arms around Rachel, and gave her a tight hug.

It felt like an eternity since Rachel had been hugged.

"I can promise you -we're not losing anyone else. No one," Quinn swore quietly into Rachel's ear, reaching up to tuck the piece of hair that had fallen from Rachel's serviceable braid.

It was that hug, and Quinn's words, that made Rachel feel…not better, exactly, but like the weight of Stacy's death was off her shoulders, and held by everyone. And that there was, perhaps, hope for the future -a future that included Quinn.

The feeling remained even when the door opened, and Quinn let go of her, and stepped away as Brittany came into the room.

* * *

Fifty-three hours after she told Kurt and Blaine she was in labor, a very exhausted Terri gave birth to Theresa Wilhelmina Del Monico. The baby seemed fine, as did Terri, despite Rachel having to quickly dispose of the sheet Terri had been lying on once she'd started pushing, leaving Quinn to clean the older woman up. Terri had barely noticed, and neither of them were in a rush to tell her (Quinn had been embarrassed to admit to Rachel she'd done the same thing while pushing, and hadn't noticed either. Rachel had been weirdly touched when Quinn had told her.) And then Terri needed stitches from Tina that was awkward and awful for all parties involved.

But mother and child were better than anyone had really expected, and that's what mattered. A small sliver of hope, and the mood was certainly lightened.

Sam had even smiled.

There'd been tears from most of the teenagers when Terri had tiredly announced her daughter's name.

Rachel wondered if any of the other's realized "Terri" was a nickname of Theresa, and that Terri had named her daughter after herself as well as after Mr. Schue.

Likely not.

When Santana, and then Tiffany started coughing Terri had spirited her daughter to her room, as quickly as she could, and to the mattress and crib waiting for them both. Rachel did not think a cold owuld be dangerous for a newborn, but it was easier on Terri to keep the baby from getting sick, of course.

There was still so much to do, and they had not even discussed venturing into town, but the last few days they'd made great headway in getting settled in.

And Quinn had shyly held her hand when Rachel had taken a break from cataloging their supplies this morning.

It was, hopefully a start of something more -of Quinn being comfortable with herself, and her and Rachel, of intimacy, and to eventually telling everyone, preferably well before Spring.

Rachel wasn't quite ready to give in to the dream of something like marrying, or as close as possible in this new world, Quinn Fabray that was a butterfly softly flapping in the back of her mind. A dream of actively raising Abby, Beth and Christopher together in a two mother household, and perhaps even speaking to Blaine and Kurt about sperm donation and surrogacy. She was not ready to give that dream permission to grow and flourish and for her to go about it as fervently as she had once worked towards her Broadway dreams -but that did not stop her from hoping that one day they could have all that, and more.

Hope, when you got right down to it, was really all they had right now. Without hope, they may as well throw themselves to the zombies.

* * *

**A/N:** Whoa, goooo Rachel. She gave Quinn a kick in the pants there, didn't she? Things aren't quite fixed -and Rachel's still in a worse place then normal (since they're all in a kind of bad place, it's become their new normal) but she's handling things a bit better, and Quinn's starting to get a hold of her own feelings too.

The next few chapters will kick things up a notch significantly -Rachel's mind space, and Faberry relationship wise and just stuff happening too.

Please let me know what you think! Reviews are awesome. Signed reviews will receive a sneak peak of the next chapter. ;)

Just for future reference, if an update doesn't come properly on the Saturday it should, check my profile for why. Likely school related, as this chapter was. Math is really kicking my butt. :(


	28. Zombie

The morning after Theresa's birth was full of activity. Most of them were busy bringing furniture up the their apartment.

Slowly but surely, they were settling in, and getting used to feeling safe.

Quinn didn't know if that feeling would last once the snow had melted, and the zombies weren't half frozen and slow. But for now, as long as they didn't make a lot of noise and attract attention to the building, they were fine. Thankfully, the building was brick and soundly constructed -not even Theresa's cries escaped the building if the windows were all closed.

Quinn had double checked, just to be sure.

Quinn nodded towards the door, and Kurt opened it quickly, Blaine shining the flashing into the side door of the garage as Quinn stood at the ready, her machete raised. After several minutes, when nothing came at them, the trio cautiously entered the dark garage.

They were exploring the squatty apartment building that was near theirs. Mostly, they needed food, but flashlights, batteries, toilet paper, pads &amp; tampons, candles, blankets, pillows, and sheets would always be useful, plus whatever little things they'd come across that they might want, like books or whatever.

They were low on food, so even though bringing up furniture was hard, backbreaking work, Quinn had decided a few of them should go explore the other apartment building.

So here Quinn, Blaine, and Kurt were.

Eventually Quinn would like to have the houses around them cleaned out, of both zombies and supplies, but it had taken them nearly fifteen minutes just to go the thousand feet or so down the road to the other apartment building, so it probably wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Kurt turned on the flashlight he was carrying, and shined it on the largest vehicle that was in the garage.

"A school bus," he muttered, walking around it to the open door. He stepped inside, then said, "Looks like they were in the middle of turning it into an RV." Quinn heard him rustling around in there as she quickly turned her own flashlight on, and started looking at the other cars in the garage, Blaine doing the same after an anxious look at Kurt's shadowy form through the bus's windows.

A station wagon. A little Toyota. A VW van. A sport car straight out of the eighties. A too large truck.

And a big Buick. A Buick that had a zombie inside, who had spotted them, and was snarling at them black spittle running down it's chin as it pressed against the glass.

Blaine saw it the same time she did.

"Should we just leave it there?" He asked quietly, stepping next to her and adding his light to hers, both of them shining harshly on the zombie.

"No, what if it breaks the glass and gets out? Or it figures out how to open the door?" Quinn muttered, licking her lips she added, "Open the back door, and when it goes for you, I'll take care of it."

Blaine had a look on his face, and he shook his head, "No...Quinn...what if gets free of its seatbelt? You distract it and I will put it down."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at him, then pointedly stood next to the front of the car. With a sigh, he stood next to the back door on the passenger side, and after a moment, opened the door.

The zombie snarled, and turned towards him, leaning as far as the seatbelt allowed it, clawing desperately at Blaine.

Quickly, Quinn stepped forward, opened the driver's side door, and slammed her machete up through the back of the zombies skull as hard as she could.

It stilled. She wiped the machete on a clean side of the seat, then closed the door after giving the interior of the car a look over. Neat, clean (except where there was zombie goo) and nothing worth noticing besides a huge purse.

"Blaine?" Kurt's called, worry thick in his voice.

"We had a zombie in a car," Blaine answered back as Quinn walked around the car to him. Together, they walked back to the bus as Kurt was leaving it.

"Probably someone's zombie grandma," Quinn added.

Kurt grimaced, then said, "We should think about taking this bus if we leave Quinn," shining the light on it for emphasis.

"I thought it was being converted or whatever? And why?"

"I can finish the conversion eventually. And we should take it because it runs on diesel...in a few more months it's going to be harder to find good, useable gas. There's other people out there, somewhere, and chances are they'll be looking for good fuel too. Plus it can hold_ everyone_, and all our things. And it's super easy to work on. We could just go down to one or two vehicles, plus the bus," The excitement in Kurt's voice was hard to miss.

Quinn shrugged, "If you wanna trek out here and work on it, go ahead. It couldn't hurt to have it just in case."

Blaine offered to help Kurt work on it as they walked to the door that lead inside the apartment building. Quinn was mostly sure the bus was an excuse for the pair to get some alone time, more than it was as something useful for the group. Which, whatever, she didn't blame them.

It made her think about Rachel, and having alone time with her…she pushed those thoughts away guiltily, and did her best to focus.

The door from the garage lead into a shabby lobby, with several shabby vending machines.

Two floors, six apartments, and fourteen zombies later, they were done. It took them another hour to drag the zombies out into the side yard, to be taken care of later when they could.

Then the searching started up in earnest. To make things easier, they took whatever they could use from each apartment, and set it outside in neat piles in the hallway. Then they could just come back later and grab whatever from that section.

Disappointingly enough, they didn't find much food.

"I don't_ understand._ This is _South Dakota,_ don't they get hellish snowstorms that keep them stuck in their homes for _months_ at a time? Why are none of these apartments stocked up for that?" Kurt asked grumpily as he shoved some books into his backpack.

Next to him, Blaine paused in trying to fit more toilet paper rolls into his bag, not even blushing when Quinn tossed a box of tampons to him to add too, and stared at the stacked blankets neatly piled next to him, before finally saying, "Maybe they waited until October or November? Or maybe someone came through here, and got it all."

"Or maybe the zombies ate it," Quinn snorted, hefting the backpack full of what food they_ had_ found on to her shoulders, "I grabbed a backpack from the pile, we'll get whatever is in the vending machines and head back."

"That's going to be healthy. Ugh. All the grease that's going to be in that food is going to make my skin look awful, and I can't exactly get my face cream anymore. I had to special order it over the internet," Kurt grumbled, zipping up his bag and with a grimace, pulling it onto his shoulders.

"Eh, you don't have to eat any of it. Kids might like it though, a nice treat usually, a really nice treat now," Quinn said dryly, "Are you glad Santana swiped your scarf instead of your face cream?"

Kurt visibly shuddered, "At least there's a tiny chance I'll find another one. I'll only be able to get my face cream if we sail to France."

"I always wanted to go to France…" Blaine trailed off, tugging hard on the zipper of his backpack and after a few moments, finally managing to get it zipped. He slung it casually on his shoulders, and turned to Quinn as Kurt said, "Me too," and sighed. What light mood there had been was swept away. There wasn't much conversation when they were emptying the vending machines -just Blaine and Quinn arguing who got to carry the extra bag, before Quinn just grabbed it and started walking. They were totally silent the trek back to their building

The hike up the stairs was just as silent, except for some grumbling under Kurt's breath, and winces from Blaine. Cleary from the cuts on his feet, a couple of which Tina had sewn up earlier. Quinn's ankle wasn't feeling so great either. It certainly wasn't as bad as some of the injuries she'd gotten as a Cheerio, but even then she wouldn't mind a nice long soak in a bathtub full of hot water.

Which she could technically have if she was willing to lug bucket after bucket of snow up to their apartment, then spend who knows how long boiling it. That reminded her that Beth, and the rest of the kids, would probably like an actual bath. Terri too.

Tomorrow's task, assuming they got everything moved in today. Maybe, if they weren't picky about temperature and having a lot of water, the rest of them could get a real bath too.

Kurt scowled as they entered the apartment and started taking off their outer layers, when the first thing they saw was Brittany and Rachel shoving the frame of one of the captain's beds towards the master bedroom, Santana perched on the mattress with Tiffany, and Beth, watching.

"I called that for our room," he said, dropping his bag and coat, and stepping forward, Blaine hot on his trail, placing his hand on it.

"Lady Hummel, we lugged that thing up here. You wanted it, you should have stuck around and did it yourself." Santana drawled.

"We, Santana?" Kurt said incredulously, glaring at Santana.

"I supervised," Santana coughed a couple of times, then pointedly smirked at Kurt.

Quinn rolled her eyes as Santana, but still said, "Santana's got a point Kurt."

"I was getting _food and supplies_ for us _all._ And of course you're going to take their side!" Kurt snapped.

"Kurt, this bed has a trundle bed instead of two tiers of drawers. It would be quite wasted on you and Blaine, but Tiffany and Abby and perhaps even Beth can share it if Santana and Brittany have it." Rachel said quietly.

Kurt clinched his jaw, "Well what about the other one?" They'd found two captain's beds with drawers crammed in the same bedroom, except one had apparently a trundle bed instead of a top set of drawers.

"I'm afraid I've already set it up in mine and Tina's room, made the bed, and unpacked my things." Rachel replied.

"Well you can just unpack them then," Kurt snipped, "I need the drawers."

"That's not…we'll be okay without that bed, Kurt." Blaine said, giving Rachel a guilty look before his eyes darted to Dahlia, who was sitting in the playpen gumming toys. They'd dragged the playpen from the apartment below and brought upstairs, it was bigger than Beth's travel playpen and could fit Chris, Abby, Beth, and Dahlia just fine, even Theresa when she was old enough, and back to Kurt, "We'll find an extra dresser for you?"

"There's not that much room though," Kurt grumbled as Blaine came up to him, and wrapped his arms around the other boy.

"You could always pare down some things," Quinn pointed out. Ignoring Kurt's horrified look, she added, "And maybe wear the same thing again a few times."

"The laundry difficulties you must have alone Kurt. It is not as though you can drop things off at the dry cleaner's?" Rachel pointed out as her and Brittany resumed dragging and pushing the bed. Setting her bags down, Quinn went to help them.

And if her hand accidentally happened to touch Rachel's as she was doing so, so what. It didn't matter. No one would care if they saw, or think anything about it. She took several deep breaths as they dragged the bed, telling herself it was hard to breath because of the stairs as Blaine gently pulled Kurt back out the door.

She got Kurt, kinda. On the one hand, it was just clothes. A_ lot_ of clothes. On the other, if anyone tried, even just teasingly, to get her to give up her Cheerio's sweatshirts or t-shirts or the comfy t-shirt they'd used for a Glee costume she'd swiped from Puck when she was pregnant, or the first t-shirt Mack helped her steal as a Skank or the things Rachel had grabbed for her from Mack's things, she'd be a little upset too. It was stupid, they were just clothes and it wasn't like their wasn't a zillion clothing stores they could loot if they wanted to now, but there were memories in almost every fiber. Memories that were worth keeping as long as they could.

Even if that meant lugging another dresser up four long flights of stairs.

* * *

Rachel checked on Christopher, and pulled his blankets up around him more securely, before sitting back on her bed.

The daycare had provided them with enough cribs and toys for the younger children that Christopher had his own crib in Tina and Rachel's room; she would keep the toddler in her bed at night for warmth, but it would do nicely for when he needed a nap during the day.

She smoothed the quilt that sat on top of her pile of blankets a bit. She was somewhat wary about actually using it, but it was gorgeous and made her feel good looking at it. Even if constant worry that something would happen to it gnawed at her insides.

Their bedroom had come together nicely -she'd found a rug she liked that she placed right next to her bed which was shoved against the wall. And she'd found a small dresser to use as a nightstand that had ample room for Christopher's clothing -he needed more, of course, but he had enough for now. Her own clothing had fit entirely into the drawers in her bed, except for a few things, like her Papa's coat, which had to be hung in the closet. There was still plenty of room for Tina's things in it.

She'd carefully selected several of her favorite photos from her photo album, and hung them on the wall using picture frames taken from other apartments, like almost everything they had.

They'd placed a bookcase along the wall in the small space between the door and the closet. Rachel and Tina had each filled a shelf, selecting what they liked from the motley collection of books they had found. Rachel had left room for the books they would hopefully find that they would need.

The walls were still just dull primed white, but over all Rachel felt nice about the room -even if Tina had insisted on keeping an ugly metal trunk at the foot of her bed.

She was idly tracing her finger along a line stitching in the quilt, and trying to figure out if they could simply get away with taping instead of pinning a sheet in the middle of the room for their privacy curtain, when Blaine knocked gently at the door.

"Come in," she called quietly.

He pushed open the door fully (she'd kept it only partially closed, not wanting to block the heat from coming in,).

"Hi Rachel," he said quietly, and held Dahlia out to her. Gently, Rachel took the baby. It was nice to hold her again. The infant smiled at Rachel gummily, and waved the rattle she clutched with her chubby little fists at Rachel.

"Kurt and I are going to go back to the other apartment building, he found a rug he wants for our room, and we'll bring back more sheets and towels over too. Quinn mentioned something about attempting baths tomorrow, so it can't hurt to have more towels." Blaine idly repeated Rachel's actions of gently stroking the stitching on her quilt.

"Please be careful," Rachel said, and cooed a couple of times at Dahlia.

"So we'll be back in two hours? Tops? I just fed her..." Blaine trailed off.

Rachel looked up at him, taking her eyes off the infant, "I am sorry Blaine, I believe I am confused -are you asking me to babysit your sister, or are you once more sharing care of her with me?"

Blaine winced, "Babysit? I'm sorry Rachel, really, but when we were separated Kurt thought I was dead, and now that we're all together again, he's been much more involved and enthusiastic about Dahlia then he was before. It really feels like we're...we're her parents. Before he would barely hold her for a minute, freaking out that he wasn't ready to be a teen father no matter how much he loved me...I'm so so sorry, Rachel, I know I've been a jerk. I can't thank you enough for what you did with her the last month. I owe you, I do."

"You have been a jerk, I will not argue with that," Rachel said carefully, "I am fine if you wish to care for Dahlia solely with Kurt. He is your boyfriend, that's how it should be -as I have maintained, your step-mother was not in a good state of mind when she decided I should take care of Dahlia. That said, you should have talked to me about this sooner. It was quite hurtful to not even be allowed to hold Dahlia once we were reunited. And perhaps it was foolish of me, but I had assumed we had grown to become friends, so it was equally as hurtful that you did not have a word to say to me once we were reunited."

Blaine winced again, "I'm sorry Rachel. And we _are _friends. Kurt...well, Kurt doesn't like you much even if you two became friendly enough when you were dating Finn -I don't think he's ready to let go of how things were before, including his perception of you. Or me, even." He sighed and ran a hand through his fluffy hair. "Then again, I think Tina and I and maybe Sam are the only one's Kurt really likes. He puts up with Brittany, and he's scared of Santana and he's worried about Quinn being leader or snapping and he tolerates the kids."

"I can certainly see why Kurt doesn't like me much, (even if we became friendly enough due to constantly being in close proximity during the summer -I was _constantly_ at the Hudson-Hummel house, it was impossible for us to not bond while Finn and Puck played video games.) A lot of the time, I was not exactly the kind of person Mr. Rogers knew I could be -my drive for Broadway stardom did not allow it. And we're all a little scared of Santana. I do believe his fears about Quinn snapping are unfounded; what happened with Shelby was a horrible thing that will not happen again."

"So...are we okay?"

"We are okay Blaine." It hurt a bit, but they _were _okay.

He sighed happily, "I'm glad Rachel. We'll be back before her next feeding..."

"I'm sorry Blaine, I am not available to babysit right now. I have plans," quickly, Rachel handed the baby to Blaine, "I have to change clothing. I think perhaps Sam will be willing to watch Dahlia -especially if you offer to bring him or Stevie something back with you." Before the dark haired boy could say a word, she'd ushered him out of the room and closed the door. And Sam had already agreed to keep an eye out on all the napping children.

Just because they were okay did not mean that Rachel was going to be available at Blaine's beck and call like she had been -she had done the vast majority of Dahlia's care, she was not going to do so again if she had been downgraded to babysitter and maybe friend from parent and almost sibling.

And she did have plans anyway. Santana had invited her to exercise with Quinn, Brittany and Santana. Well, she'd said, "Hey, do you wanna be crazy with Quinn and Brittany?" but strictly speaking, that was an invitation. And she'd invited Tina, knowing how hurtful it was to be left out. She hoped the exercise would warm her up a bit -no matter how many layers she wore, she couldn't seem to get warm despite the heat from the fireplace.

* * *

Santana leaned against the wall, watching Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel jog up and down the flight of stairs.

Well, mostly she was watching Brittany.

She swore it made her feel better -Tina thought she either had a cold, or her cough was from her infection, but whatever it was, Santana felt like crap.

Next to her, Tina was mangling some of Brittany's yarn as she attempted to knit.

"You keep dropping stitches Tina, your stitches too tight, _and_ you're adding stitches. Somehow," she muttered, making the other girl sigh and unravel what little she'd managed to knit and start over. Louder, Santana added, "Have I told you three you're crazy lately? Because you're crazy."

"It's been seven minutes since the last time you've called us crazy Santana," Brittany said, stopping at the top of stairs and wiping the sweat off her face with the bottom t-shirt she was wearing, giving Santana a great few of her stomach.

"Keeping our muscles active and promoting cardiovascular health is important, more so with the-" Rachel started to say, before Santana interrupted her.

"Save it man hands," Santana replied without any malice.

"I'm sorry, I agree with Santana," Tina added quietly, "We're all in okay enough shape, there's other things we could be doing right now. We spent most of the day lugging furniture around, that's enough exercise."

"It's also a good way to help anxiety and stress," Rachel added, "Santana's just jealous she's got a cold, and her injuries are restricting her from joining us. I know the infection has mostly cleared up, but how is your knee?" Then Rachel freaking Barry dared toss a smirk that was almost as good as Santana's at her.

Santana snorted, "Not too bad. In a few more weeks I bet I'll be showing you chumps up."

Quinn, who hadn't been going as fast as Brittany or even Rachel, due to her ankle, huffed out, "God Santana keep your cough to yourself, last thing we need is for everyone to catch your cold."

"I think Tiffany already has," Brittany said as she stretched for a moment.

"Sorry Britts," Santana said, half distracted as she eyed Brittany's body even more.

"It's okay San, it's not like she hasn't had a cold before. It's just sucky because Mom's not here to cuddle and read with, and Daddy can't make his famous chicken soup." Brittany shrugged, and resuming jogging up and down the stairs.

The trio continued their jogging, and Santana was starting to get bored when, panting, Rachel stopped at the top of the stairs and said, "I believe your birthday is coming up soon Santana. Is there anything you would like…besides to steal my perfectly functioning knee. Or to burn all my remaining sweaters." Rachel asked, smiling knowingly at Santana, who closed her mouth and just glared at the smaller girl. Definitely losing her edge.

Granted, her insults weren't really stinging mean insults, just playful teasing banter. All bark, no bite.

She could still totally go all Snix on Rachel, if she wanted too.

She just didn't want to.

"Terri going to a different house until the kid's old enough to sleep through the night?" Santana suggested with a lazy drawl, wrapping the blanket around her tighter. The walls in the apartment were thick so the baby's crying wasn't reaching outside the building, but they could certainly hear the baby inside.

"If everyone's catching cold, it's probably not a bad idea for Terri to take the baby to a different apartment," Quinn shrugged, then starting running back up the stairs.

"I think a newborn getting a cold would be beneficial to her immune system," Rachel pointed out, "but if we did move her it would have to be one of the houses -none of the other apartments have a fireplace, and she will definitely need heat."

They'd finished cataloging their supplies, and organizing everything they had, and bringing furniture up stairs, and now there wasn't much left to do except chores and whatever they could find to entertain themselves.

Their room was tricked out with a bunk bed that Quinn and Sarah shared, while Brittany and Santana shared the bed that had a trundle for Tiffany and Abby. Kurt had almost managed to call dibs on it for him and Blaine, before Rachel had pointed out that the trundle bed would be better utilized in the master bedroom.

Bless that hobbit, because the mattress was amazing. Just the right mixture of softness and firmness.

They'd found a smaller dresser Quinn (who was on the bottom bunk) used as a nightstand, and that, plus the couple dressers they'd shoved in the closet housed their clothing. For toys and random kid crap, it got shoved under Quinn's bed or in a couple of plastic totes at the foot of Brittany and Santana's bed.

It wasn't the prettiest room, and it needed a couple of rugs and some better mood lighting then the couple of candles they used, but it was nice enough.

Certainly beat their last accommodations.

Santana was pretty sure her bear skin rug, artfully tossed on top of their bed, upgraded the room several notices.

(And the fact that Kurt had whined a bit that Santana wouldn't let him use it to decorate his and Blaine's room just added to how much she loved that rug.)

Quinn stood was quite as she ran a few extra times up and down the stairs, then stood at the top with Brittany and Rachel, "I want to get the houses cleared out anyway, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to clear out one or two incase everyone catches the cold and Terri can't deal."

Santana grinned, "Happy Birthday to me."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Theresa isn't that loud."

"It's less about the baby, and more about Terri. She keeps getting Brittany to change the kid's diapers." Santana grumbled.

"I don't mind helping her -she was in labor for a really long time, and she's sore and tired San," Brittany said gently as she helped Santana stand up, the quintet went back inside the apartment.

"We may as well get a group together, and go check out one of the houses right now," Quinn decided, "Tomorrow is bath day. Maybe laundry too? And that's going to take everyone, I think."

"I would love a bath. Do you think we can find some bubbles?" Brittany asked.

"I believe we would all love to be truly clean," Rachel sighed dreamily.

"There were a couple of bottles of bubble bath in one of the apartments. Still there, I didn't grab it because I didn't think we'd need it," Tina shrugged, clutching the yarn and knitting needles.

"We can get them on the way upstairs after we get back from the house," Quinn decided.

"Who will be going?" Rachel asked.

"Santana." Quinn said dryly.

Santana snorted, "I wish. Bitch."

Quinn grinned, and Santana was happy to see her smile -even if it was at her own expense. "Me, Brittany, Rachel, and Tina?"

Tina nodded, "Okay."

"Me too. I'm okay!" Brittany piped up, before going into their bedroom to check on the sleeping kids.

"Of course," Rachel said.

Santana grit her teeth, "I don't like the thought of Brittany clearing out a house." At least not without Santana. It was incredibly selfish of her, but she couldn't lose Brittany.

"Kurt told me how good she was at killing zombies when it was just them two," Tina whispered as her and Rachel made their way to their room, Rachel tossing a sad look at Quinn and Santana.

"I can go instead of Brittany," Sam said from the couch, where he'd been reading a book to Stevie and Kyle. At his words, Stevie made a choked sounding noise, and curled up closer to his brother. "Uh, maybe not." Sam said, looking helplessly at his brother, before wrapping an arm around him. After a moment's hesitation, he wrapped his other arm around Kyle, and pulled both boys into a hug.

"That's okay Sam. Santana," Quinn looked back at her, "There's not enough of us for anyone to sit out doing stuff like that. Terri just had a baby, and you're still getting over your infection and knee, but eventually you'll both be doing stuff like that too. We just can't have people who sit at home safe while the rest of us risk our asses outside."

"And when did you decide that, your highness?" Santana snapped.

Quinn raised an eyebrow at her, and instead of rising to Santana's bait, just said, "She'll be okay. She killed one of those super zombies by herself you know."

"Yeah, yeah I know. I'm just...worried, okay?"

"It's okay to be scared Santana."

"Whatever. And Rachel killed two of those zombies, did _you_ know _that?_"

"No, actually, I didn't. I had no idea..." Quinn seemed disturbed by the though. Santana didn't blame her, it was kinda disturbing.

"Yeah, Rachel Berry's a badass. Who knew? Anyway, go change, you stink. Although if you're gonna go clear a house, may as well keep that on."

* * *

They'd picked the closest house with a chimney- it had taken them twenty three minutes, according to Brittany, to trudge through the deep snow to the house, which was a little further away from them then the other apartment building.

They definitely needed snow shoes or something to make getting through the snow easier, since it was unlikely it was going to let up anytime soon -Spring was a long way off.

The door to the tiny ranch style home wasn't locked.

Quinn knocked on the door loudly, and after a minute, the quartette cautiously opened the door, and stepped inside.

The first thing Quinn noticed was the cage, half covered and taking up an entire corner of the small living room. Faded feathers and several corpses of whatever types of bird that was in it littered the floor.

She walked over, leaving the other two standing together, and moved the blanket on the cage, covering it completely.

"Remember, every nook and cranny-" she muttered as Tina, after a confirmation nod from Quinn, opened a closed door in the hallway they'd stepped into.

Immediately, with low growls, several zombies lunged towards them.

Tina went to work with her baseball bat, Mike's letterman jacket engulfing her as she recklessly brought the bat against every head she saw.

Quinn had a moment to decide she needed to talk to the other girl about that, before she found herself jabbing the machete up through the eye sockets of the zombie nearest to her, even as Tina started bashing it's head in.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rachel hit her zombie's head a few times with the crowbar, before mimicking Quinn and jabbing the straight end through the eye socket, while Brittany settled for just hitting heads, one at a time, harder then Quinn had thought she could do.

It took several minutes, but finally the four zombies were dead, permanently.

Breathing heavily, Quinn wiped the machete on a curtain (making Rachel frown) then looked at Tina.

"How is that jacket not a bloody mess like our clothes?" She grumbled.

Tina gave her a small, sad smile, "Mike's parents were really proud when he made the football team. His mom used some spray stuff on it to keep it from staining."

"We should find some," Rachel said thoughtfully, "Anything that can cut down on the amount of laundry we will have to do would be rather useful."

Quinn nodded, "Add it to the list when we get back. Along with snow shoes."

"I feel bad for their birds," Brittany said, toeing one of the corpses with her boot covered foot, "I wonder how many pets have died. It's sad. Lord Tubbington would be okay if I died...as long as I didn't eat him."

Once they had opened the other three doors -another smaller bedroom, a bathroom, and a lien closet, and determined there were no other zombies in the house, Quinn said quietly, "Rachel and Brittany, can you go find some cleaning stuff? For after we take out the bodies?" Then she looked meaningfully at Tina.

Brow furrowing, Rachel seemed to get what Quinn was trying to tell her, and the smaller girl nodded, "Very well. I believe we shall also see what the kitchen and garage have to offer us." Then she grabbed Brittany's hand gently, and the two of them left.

Once they were clear of the room, Tina said, "We should start moving the bodies now."

Quinn stepped in front of her, "We should talk first."

Clutching her baseball bat, Tina stared up at Quinn, "About what?"

Quinn puffed a piece of pink hair out of her face, took a deep breath, and said, "Your...technique. I've noticed it since we cleared the cabin -it's too…reckless. You were just hitting heads back there, even the one I was already killing."

Tina shrugged, "It got the job done."

"This time. Next time, you could get yourself hurt -or someone else."

"I won't. I haven't, and I won't." Tina said stubbornly, gripping her bat tighter.

"Since when can you predict the future? And why didn't you tell us about the zombies before everything happened?" Quinn said wryly, "Look…you don't know that for sure. Just…focus on one zombie at a time for now on, and make sure you aren't on a zombie that someone else is already taking care of, unless they need the help. Okay? You-" Quinn was interrupted by a scream.

_Rachel. _

Heart pounding, adrenaline and terror filling her, Quinn rushed out of the room followed closely by Tina. It didn't take them long to traverse the small house, but every second like felt hours as they ran to where Rachel was still screaming.

In the garage, they arrived seconds after Brittany did, where they found Rachel on the ground, kicking at a zombie with her booted feet as she struggled with keeping the zombie on top of her from biting her.

Without hesitation, Quinn pulled her Glock out of the shoulder holster, and shot the zombie on top of Rachel in the head. Skull, brain matter, and gore spattered everywhere. With half its skull missing, it fell motionless on top of Rachel. Ears ringing from the noise, made louder by the garage, she pointed the gun at the other zombie, and fired.

Once more she hit the zombie's head and the top portion of its skull exploded, showering them in blood, gore and brain matter.

And the zombie kept coming towards them, focusing on Rachel because she was closest, and pinned by the zombie body on top of her.

What the hell...?

Wait, she'd seen this before -when she'd been exiled, and by herself, there was that one zombie that hadn't stopped coming for her until she...what had she done.

She racked her mind, as the zombie stumbled towards Rachel.

"The neck, get the neck," Quinn shouted to Tina, who rushed towards the zombie, her bat raised, as Quinn set down her gun and raised her machete, while Brittany started trying to tug the huge zombie off of Rachel.

Tina smashed the zombie's neck hard, several times, but it wasn't until Quinn rushed in, and sliced at it with her machete that the zombie stilled, and fell over.

The two girls stood there, staring at the zombie for a moment, before silently helping Brittany heft the zombie off Rachel. As a dazed looking Rachel sat up, with Quinn anxiously looking her over for bites, Tina said, "What…what was that?"

Swallowing hard, Quinn tore her eyes from Rachel and looked at Tina, "You know…you know how those …hunter zombies? Well I think there's some that are kinda like them, but instead of being smart hunters, they only die if you sever the spinal cord, or brain stem, or whatever it is."

"Mutations? Zombies aren't bad enough, even the hunter zombies? Now there's other _types_? What is this, Left Four Dead?" Tina muttered, reaching a hand out to help Rachel up.

"Are you okay Rachel?" Quinn asked, she could only stare at Rachel. Next to her, Brittany was picking up Rachel's dropped crowbar and handing it to her once she was standing up.

"Besides being terribly embarrassed I did not think to have some caution when opening the garage?" Rachel sighed, "Yes, I am fine. Thank you all for coming to my aid so promptly."

"I'm," Quinn swallowed heavily, "I'm glad you're okay." She locked eyes with Rachel, trying to convey just how much she cared about the other girl to her.

"I'm glad too, Rachel," Tina added, then, she pointed with her bat, "Look, a sled and snow stuff. You were just talking about snow shoes…"

"No more splitting up, " Brittany declared as they started pulling the huge sled off the wall, "If we searched the kitchen together this wouldn't have happened."

"Right. Definitely no more splitting up, " Quinn agreed. There was a tickle in the back of her throat, and she wondered if she was catching Santana's cold.

Somberly, the quartette went back into the house once they were done getting the sled and three pairs of snowshoes off the wall after Quinn put her gun back into the holster.

* * *

"What that?" Santana pulled the notebook out and looked at it, then at Kurt. "A school bus?"

Kurt shrugged, "It's already in the garage, and most of the really hard stuff is done. The building owner's apparently. It'd be nice to have a project to work on."

"I repeat -a school bus?"

He blushed lightly, and gestured at the notebook, "If we're going to go to Wyoming at some point, it'd be nice to have it," he flipped a few pages, "Four sets of bunk beds, and leaving six seats, plus shelving to store more totes, and a flat work area with more shelving behind the last row of seats, and a small bathroom area that won't be more than a bucket, but it'll still be better then creeping outside to pee or making a bunch of bathroom stops. Oh, and a deck on the roof with a small chicken house, and maybe some space for a small garden."

"School buses are cold as hell, and that sounds like a shit ton of work for something we probably won't use"

He nodded, "That's why the first part of the project is going to be installing good insulation. I'd like to put in a small wood stove too but haven't quite made it work design wise."

She stared at him, and his cheeks flushed deeper, "Look, it's dumb and I'll probably be too busy to do much and it's a lot of work, but " he shrugged.

"No, no, I get it Kurt. Gotta have something to do that's not chores or babysitting. Brittany knits. Quinn reads when she's not wrangling her lizard baby. And I-."

"You mock?" Kurt said dryly, interrupting her.

"No, I come up with super cool zombie killing weapons. Maybe I should start writing them down, not that they could be made," Santana grinned toothily at him, then coughed into her arm. She hadn't really thought much about any weapons, actually, had talked about them a few times with Sam and Puck before he died...but that sounded better "worrying" as a hobby.

Being sick sucked. It might not even be a cold -it could be just her body fighting off the infection...at least if she remembered half over heard conversations between her Doctor parents correctly.

But that wouldn't explain why Tiffany and she was pretty sure Kyle too, had a cough.

Probably they were all going to be in for a cold. Eh, it'd be okay as long as they had plenty of rest -and it's not like they had super busy schedules. They should definitely give the kids chores and maybe even some school stuff at some point.

They kept chatting about just random stuff here and there -Kurt had seemed to forgive Santana for the loss of his McQueen scarf, or maybe he realized he'd deserved it. Either way, they were still talking when Quinn, Rachel, Brittany and Tina came back.

"Mios Dios, did you three decide to pull a _Carrie_ on the hobbit, or something?" she snickered, staring at their blood and gore covered forms, Rachel much more so, as the four girls stepped carefully into the apartment and started removing boots and outer layers. She anxiously trailed over Brittany, and relaxed when she'd confirmed the blonde girl was okay.

"Zombies," Tina shrugged.

"On the bright side, there is a home available for Terri should she feel the need to go there -including firewood that we can certainly gather for here if needed," Rachel said, "And we were able to gather some food items for us that need to be brought up."

"I'll get it," Sam said, gently disengaging himself from the kids who had gathered around him to listen to his story as one by one the younger kids had woken up from their naps. Santana herself had plopped Beth and Chris next to him after the toddlers had woken up.

She'd also broken up the fight between Stevie and Sarah when the girl had joined the group of kids, and Stevie had tried to make her go somewhere else.

Sam needed to talk to his brother -he was pretty shirty with Sarah and Rachel, obviously he blamed them for Stacy's death.

Kurt stood up from where he'd been leaning over the coffee table jotting down ideas and doodles next to Santana, "I'll help."

As Santana watched to two boys leave, not paying attention to the idle chit chat that was going on around her or the symphony of coughs, once more she felt pissed off at feeling so useless.

It hurt too breath, for goodness sake. Hell, it hurt to not breath too. And she was so cold, despite the fire in the fireplace putting off so much heat.

* * *

Five days passed.

In her low moments -days when Chris was cranky, wouldn't nap, Quinn ignored her utterly, the pink hair girl obviously struggling with something hard that day, the food was not palatable (they were all thoroughly sick of oatmeal), she was coughing too much to exercise, and she'd gotten little sleep, and when she did -at night she had horrible nightmares.

In those moments, sometimes she wondered if perhaps she should have stayed with Finn.

Marriage. A baby eventually. Singing regularly, in charge of the moral committee.

But then Chris would break out of his grumpiness, Quinn would shoot her a smile, Brittany would request Rachel make her "Yummy" vegan stew as best she could with what they had, and she'd tire herself out so much she didn't dream.

(And wasn't it was funny how her best nights were when she didn't dream -her life used to be about nothing but her one big dream.)

On those days, she'd recall that she hadn't been as exactly happy as she'd wanted to be with Finn, that the cabin was a dangerous place, there'd be no way she'd managed to get back there by herself -and even if she did, she'd be unlikely to have a welcome reception from anyone, even Finn. For all she knew, he'd already married Ava or whatever her name was, and he was gloriously happy without her.

Or perhaps shortly after they left, Frannie snapped and killed everyone as they slept. Or they starved to death. Or anything, really.

There was a certain terror in uncertainty.

Almost as much as the terror in ignorance.

And they had certainly been ignorant.

Terri, with the paranoia of a new mother, still sore from giving birth, had decided that moving to the house they'd cleaned out would be prudent given the amount of coughing that could be heard throughout the apartment.

Somehow, the woman had talked Blaine into going with her, and the pair, plus their infants and Sarah had moved out four days ago -to Kurt's consternation.

Two days ago, everyone in the apartment had seemed to come down with the flu at the same time -there had been signs, they just hadn't realized it.

They'd all moved into the living room, and it was quite an effort to make sure there was oatmeal cooked and ready for whomever felt enough hunger to bother getting out of their mess of blankets. Not as much effort as gathering snow to melt and boil so they had water, feedings and watering the sad looking chickens in the apartment below them (thankfully Blaine had insisted on taking the puppies with them) nor collecting firewood from the ground floor and bringing it up to the fourth.

Somehow, someone always managed to do what needed to be done.

Rachel kept herself and Christopher fed and well watered, and she tried not to worry too much about his cough, his diarrhea, his fever, his listlessness or the way his breathing was labored.

It would pass -they'd get well again, and take more care to not get sick again.

The other children had the same symptoms as Christopher did -Kyle's breathing was by far the most worrying. They would for sure have to find him more asthma medicine -he was using it more every day then he had so far combined.

Those older weren't quite so bad off; a nasty cough, a fever, chills, headaches, and just a general tiredness.

Santana was suffering the worst out of all of them. The general conscious was that her infection had weakened her, so she got a share of the children's medicine taken from the day care downstairs. Everyone else, except the children of course, suffered through without such luxury.

Today, the third day since they'd gotten sick, she woke to a cool body next to her -for a moment, she felt elation, assuming that Christopher's fever had finally broken.

It dawned on her slowly that she could not hear his grasping breath She'd become so used to it that the lack of it should have stood out starkly.

"No, no, nooo," she moaned, not bothering to be quiet as she sat up, and pulled the covers of desperately.

She felt for a pulse, then put her head on his chest.

Silence.

Someone was screaming, it wasn't until Sam wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away from the tiny body did she realize it was her.

Everyone seemed to be talking -or crying, at once. She couldn't make out anyone's voices, or their words, all she could hear was her own heartbeat pulsing in her head.

She stumbled to their bedroom, not even flinching at the rush of cold air that felt like it went through her as she opened the door.

She shrugged on her Papa's coat, buttoning it up with awkward fingers, already starting to grow cold in the unheated room.

Christopher needed to be buried. It was the least she could do for him.

Stacy hadn't had a burial. Her daddy, her papa -they hadn't had a burial. They had all been left in the cold to the zombies.

Ignoring everyone, she went to the door, and pulled on the first pair of boots she found. Not even bothering to tie the laces on the much too large boots, she staggered back to their nest of blankets.

The others were still talking to each other, to her.

Why.

Why did they bother?

Christopher was dead.

Why did everyone she loved -who loved her back, die? And she had no doubts the toddler had loved her.

She kneeled next to the body, and pulled the sheet out from the pile of blankets, and gently wrapped his tiny stiff body in it.

Then she carefully picked him up.

Wobbly, she carried to him to the door, hating that it was not difficult to hold him with one arm as she undid the lock and opened the door, closing it behind her with a slam.

She doesn't remember how long it took her to go down the stairs -it felt like one second, she was standing at the top step, and the next she was standing in front of the front door staring out at the white wonderland that was the world outside their apartment.

Heedless of the cold, the snow, or the zombies, she carried him across the road, walking as fast as the deep snow on the ground, her too large boots, and her own weak and ill body let her.

Despite being clad in nothing but her nightgown, and the heavy coat, she didn't feel the cold.

She felt nothing.

Once she was in what felt like a good spot in the park, she reverently set his body down. After a coughing fit that sent pain radiating through her, she fell to her knees, and started clawing through the snow with her bare hands, heedless of the icy cold numbness spreading through them.

Wordlessly, Quinn kneeled down next to her, and helped her dig in the snow.

Somehow, a part of her knew Quinn would follow her out here -but just another part of her had not dared to assume she nor Christopher had meant that much to Quinn that the pink haired girl would pull herself from bed and follow her.

Finally, they reached the ground underneath the snow. She tried uselessly to claw at it, but it was frozen solid.

So, carefully, she set the blanket wrapped body down in the hole, and they covered him with snow.

Another one given to the cold, not even allowed to be safe underground.

"We need to get medicine," Rachel finally said quietly as Quinn scooted closer to her, and lugged the bear skin draped over her shoulders over them both.

"I know. We should have days ago. I…" Quinn trailed off, coughing hard. "I'm…this is my fault. I'm so sorry Rachel," then she coughed again.

Rachel couldn't bring herself to look at Quinn right now, or to enjoy being so close to the other girl.

They sat in silence, except for the occasional cough, the cold creeping through Rachel, going through her very bones. She was shivering. Had been by the time she was on the second floor -she just hadn't realized it until now.

"We can leave tomorrow," Quinn said firmly.

Rachel made herself look at Quinn, "No. Christopher is…Christopher is _dead._ If we wait, who is going to be next? We need to leave today, as soon as possible. We haven't checked on Terri and Blaine, for all we know they became sick and Teresa and Dahlia are dead as well. We've been negligent, thinking this would just be an annoyance that would pass over us as though it was a slightly more harsher cold. We are foolish children, playing at being adults in a world that we are not equipped for."

"There's no "we". This is on me Rachel. Coach Sylvester even gave me training for this type of situation, and I can't even remember enough of it to be useful," Quinn had tears in her eyes.

"You're a teenager Quinn -you should be planning for prom and packing for college, not…not dealing with this…none of us should..." Rachel trailed off, coughing.

"Let's go back, Rachel. If we're leaving today, we need to get the others, and prepare," Quinn stood up, and helped Rachel up.

Rachel gave one last lingering look at the small mound that contained Christopher's body, then huddling together under the heavy fur, the two girls went back to the apartment, snow falling lightly.

* * *

The snow had stopped falling, as best she could tell from her spot next to Beth's and Abby's feverish sleeping forms. Quinn coughed, wheezing a bit and struggling to breath. She felt so weak, and helpless.

They'd needed a nap when they'd returned to the apartment building.

Rachel was unnaturally quiet, even her coughs seemed quieter now -had started going about getting dressed to leave the apartment before Quinn had made her lie down next to Brittany.

There was something hard in Rachel's eyes that had never been there before -not even when she'd sent that girl to a crack house.

After she found the strength, she sat up, and said weekly, "Meeting."

When no one stirred, she said louder, "Meeting. Kitchen."

Leaving the children after tucking the blankets around them, she softly said, "Not you Santana. Just sleep." to the half awake girl who had stirred. Santana quickly stilled, and was back sleep in moments.

It took several long minutes, but eventually they were all gathered in the kitchen.

"We need to find medicine. We should have earlier," Quinn coughed painfully, "but I just didn't realize it'd go so bad and we need it. Volunteer only, Tina, you're staying here with Santana and the kids."

"I'm not as sick as the rest of you though?" Tina pointed out, leaning against the kitchen counter, the blanket clutched tightly around her.

"I know…if we don't come back…" Quinn trailed off.

"Oh.."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Everyone bundle up, because chances are we'll have to walk at some point. We'll take Puck's truck as far as we can, then when it's time to come back we'll drive backwards. As long as it doesn't snow again, it'll be faster."

"I'll go put what gas we have left in the truck," Kurt muttered.

"Tina, while we're getting ready can you get some food and things together for us in case we don't come back tonight? In fact, assume we won't be back until tomorrow."

Tina nodded, and that set up a flurry of activity -well, "flurry" would be putting it quite nicely, everyone moved slowly, with careful deliberate motions, not wanting to waste what energy they had.

* * *

It took an agonizingly long time for everyone to dress for the snow, gather their weapons, and empty out every backpack and duffel bag they could get their hands on, then traverse the four flights of stairs and put their bags, the sled, and the snow shoes in the back of the truck.

Quinn was already dreading climbing back up them when they returned.

Tina had made them eat a full bowl of oatmeal and a precious can of tuna each.

It was more food at once then any of them had had an entire day in the last week.

While medicine was the most important thing for them, if they could they should get some more food. Even a couple bags of rice and beans would go a long way -they were almost down to eating the things Mack had raided from the camping section of Wal-Mart and stowed in the van. In fact, Quinn wasn't quite sure they weren't down to that already.

They had a long list of pharmacies, the two walk in clinics in town, and several grocery stores with pharmacies in them copied carefully from the phonebook they'd found in one of the apartments.

They just needed a map, otherwise it was going to take a very long time trying to find the right roads when they had no clue where they were.

"Maybe we could find some motocross bikes. I saw a dealership in the phonebook," Brittany said slowly as they headed for the truck, dragging the sled behind them.

"Dirt bikes in snow Brittany?" Kurt said, before breaking into a coughing fit.

"Well, there's kits I'm sure a dealership would have that would make them work on the snow." Brittany wheezed out painfully, also coughing.

"Maybe Britts." Was all Quinn could say as Sam lead them through the snow, around the building to the parking lot where the cars were.

It took them seven minutes, according to Brittany.

They managed to drive almost a mile, stuffed in the truck, none of them daring to sit in the truck bed, with the cold and snow, before it became clear they'd have to go on foot.

Rachel, Kurt and Brittany got the snowshoes. Sam and Quinn made due, trailing behind the trio, Sam insisting on going ahead of her so he could make a path, clearly not happy Quinn insisted on pulling the sled, laden with their bags and supplies.

Rachel would say she was being foolish, but Quinn wasn't concerned about zombies -they all had guns, ammo, and their melee weapons. No, Quinn was worried about what they'd find when they returned to the apartment, when they checked on Terri and Blaine. Worried that even if they found medicine, it wouldn't be the right kind, or…or enough for all of them.

And someone…she…_she_ would have to choose who got to _live_.

They'd parked the truck near a clutch of buildings -businesses, a windshield repair place, a cabinet store, a sign making company- useless for their needs. But in one, the first one they'd went into, the sign making company, they'd found a huge map of the town hung up inside, businesses with signs made by the sign company marked proudly.

There were also streets marked, and carefully they'd taken down the framed picture, pulled it out, and rolled it up.

They knew where they were going, at least.

It took them hours to go through the snow to the closet place on their list. '

And the pharmacy was empty -someone had come in, and cleared out all food and pills from the shelves, leaving behind just knickknacks and gifts for sale in the tiny ma and pop type pharmacy.

Quinn threw a decorative ceramic pig statue, the kind only grandmother's ever bought, against the wall, then dissolved in a hard coughing fit that brought tears to her eyes.

When she was done, she stared at the broken pieces of the pig on the ground, then turned to the others, all coughing quietly or just leaning against the wall, not looking at her.

"We'll rest for an hour, then go to the next place on the list. Sam?"

He carefully looked at the map, then almost smiled as he said, "It's only just a few blocks down the street."

"Good." Quinn pointed to a stack of wood trays, "Make that half an hour then. We can build a fire out of that."

"Can we make tea?" Brittany asked. Quinn hadn't noticed before how weak her voice sounded before.

"I think we could all," Rachel coughed hard, "We could all benefit from some hot tea."

"I'll get the snow," Kurt said, already rummaging through the bag holding their meager supplies to find the pot. They hadn't brought water -just relying on boiling snow. It wasn't ideal, but it worked for now.

The hot tea, even sugarless and weak (since they'd only used two teabags for the entire pot) helped a little.

Before they knew it, they were packed up and back outside.

It started to snow lightly as they made their way down the road, pausing only when Brittany made them stop and warp the blankets they'd brought around themselves, even though they were all dressed appropriately for the weather.

The next building was cleared out of food and medicine too.

And the next.

And the last, which was merely a grocery store with a small pharmacy attached. There wasn't even a stray can of beans laying anywhere.

To get to any more, they'd have to cross the bridge over the river and get to the west, and slightly larger, side of town.

"Let's, go back towards the truck," Quinn said loudly, trying to make herself heard over the wind.

"Maybe we can search some houses on the way?" Rachel suggested.

Quinn found herself nodding. Probably all they were going to find was zombies -if they did find the medicine they needed, it wouldn't be enough for everyone.

Maybe enough for the kids though.

They trudged on -even with the snow shoes, Kurt, Rachel, and Brittany moved sluggishly, weak and tired from the day.

Quinn herself felt a hundred times worse then she had this morning. She didn't think they'd actually get many houses cleared -that Rachel -they all, were just clinging to desperate hope.

"There's smoke coming from that building," Rachel said, her teeth chattering, "I think we should," she coughed painfully.

"We should see if they'll let us stay the night," Sam added.

"One cough and they'll turn us away," Kurt muttered, "I wouldn't want sick people staying with us. We should clear out a house, and see how things go tomorrow. There's got to be some place we haven't checked yet."

"I…" Quinn trailed off…"It's a vet clinic. Rachel, wasn't the medicine you got for Santana fish stuff? We could check there, see what they have. It can't possibly be cleaned out like every place else we've found."

"And hopefully whoever's there won't think the animal medicine is useful." Kurt finished for her.

"Right."

"Come on, let's go!" Brittany added, and lead the way to the front door the veterinary clinic, the thought clearly giving her energy. Quinn had no idea where she was getting the energy -Quinn felt like she sleep could for a full day if given the chance.

Brittany knocked on the door.

Then knocked again.

Finally, it was opened by a steely eyed older woman who eyed them all, one by one, before silently stepping aside and letting them in.

The rush of warm air that engulfed them made Quinn want to cry -she hadn't realized how cold she was until she wasn't cold any more.

Next to her, Rachel clutched her rifle as she stumbled into the building.

"We were wondering if perhaps you wouldn't mind if we grabbed some of the animal medicine we…"

The woman interrupted her, "What, you got some sick kittens? We've cleared out every pharmacy we've found, how about you kids trade for some people medicine instead?"

Shock went through Quinn -then anger. These people took everything, to what,_ trade?_ Clinching her jaw, she and the others followed the woman to the waiting room, and the woman barked out, "Stay here," then disappeared through the door behind the receptionists desk.

Before they could say anything, the woman reappeared with two men and another woman.

"So Doreen tells me you kids want some medicine," The eldest man said after giving them all a look.

"We're all sick…we need antibiotics, and I don't even know," Quinn said, hating the pleading tone she'd used.

"What do you have to trade?"

"We've got a little food with us," Quinn replied. It'd suck to not have anything to eat tonight -but if they managed to get out of here quickly, they could probably push themselves hard to get back to the apartment tonight before it got too dark.

"What, exactly?" The man's tone was down to business, and Quinn was reminded of when Coach Sue was lecturing them.

"25 ounces of oatmeal, two cans of tuna, and two packets of dehydrated soup," Brittany answered for Quinn.

"That'll get you…" the man paused, thinking for a moment, before finishing, "half a bottle of aspirin. Good for a fever. Got anything else?"

"We don't _have_ anything else to trade for -we're severely low in food supplies," Rachel said pleadingly, coughing hard. Quinn hated hearing that tone in Rachel's voice worse than in her own.

"I'm sorry, I just can't give you kids anything -you have to have something to trade." The man sighed, "Your weapons could get you something, not much, but something. We need food more then we need guns."

Quinn's thinking they could offer a few chickens and rooster. Like Sam said, they need only a few chickens and a rooster for a meat producing flock -it'd just take longer.

"My little brother is sick. I've already lost my sister and parents, and if he doesn't get " Sam coughed, "if he doesn't get medicine soon he's going to die. And Kyle…Kyle's only nine, and he's in a really bad way because of his asthma. I'm worried that by the time we get back…he's going to be..."

Quinn tried to figure out how to offer some chickens without letting them want to have all the chickens. It was so hard to think -she was so tired.

The man shook his head sadly, "I appreciate your situation, I do. But we lost people, good people, clearing out the stores to get the medicine. We're happy to barter with you -but we aren't a charity."

"We've got asthma inhalers," The other woman voiced, "We can add that to the trade."

"We can't trade our weapons," Rachel said quietly.

Kurt let out a frustrated noise. His hold on his gun was steady; Quinn was surprised. She'd assumed that out of all them, even Brittany, Kurt would be the most uncomfortable with a gun -that's what she got for stereotyping.

Sam looked as though he was about to start coughing, but was forcing himself not to, "Give us what we need, _please. _You took_ everything_, it's not fair." Tears streamed down his eyes.

"Life's not fair, son. I'm sorry." The man said, "Maybe we can figure out some other trade. You'd have to do the work first, of course -labor, or…_something._" The way the man emphasized 'something' and let his eyes linger on Brittany made her want to throw up.

Rachel raised her rifle, and pointed it at the younger man -he was the only one with a visible weapon, "You have more then you will be able to use in a year, there are not _that_ many of you, I am sure, or else they would be out here given that every one of us has a visible weapon."

Kurt raised his gun and pointed it at the woman who'd offered the inhalers.

Sam pointed his gun at the man in charge, prompting Brittany to point hers at the woman who'd let them inside -Doreen.

"Kids, don't go doing something that'll haunt you the rest of your lives now, killing a person ain't like killing a bug," The man said carefully, eyeing the shotgun in Sam's hands, "In fact, lots of people -military people, find it changes them, find it isn't something they could get over despite the training they got. Why do you think the suicide rate was so high in veterans?"

"We have to do something -if not, children will die. _More_ children," Rachel's voice was thick with emotion, "You took much more then you could ever use before it all went bad, just so you could _trade."_ Disgust was clear in Rachel's tone.

Quinn opened her mouth to try to get her friends to put their guns down, that they could figure this out without anyone getting hurt, but the man spoke first. "You have to do what you have to do in the world to survive -just because the monsters aren't lurking in the shadows anymore doesn't change that. Tell you what, I'll give you a good deal for your weapons. All the medicine you need, plus some extra for next time someone gets the snuffles, for your weapons."

Rachel looked up at the man, her hold on her rifle already starting to waver, "We are not idiots. If we agree to your very generous trade, you will simply turn around and use our weapons on us. You are the monster here."

Rachel's words seemed to flip a switch in Sam. It felt like slow motion as Sam fired into the man's chest, followed by Rachel quickly leaning over the receptionist desk, and firing at the man with the gun before he could react.

Brittany fired the gun she was holding at Doreen, hitting the woman in the stomach. She fell over, clutching her stomach, and Quinn couldn't do anything but watch as the woman moaned, tears streaming down her face, as blood starting pooling around her.

"You killed them! You get nothing, I'll burn it before I let you have anything," the woman who had offered the inhalers was practically foaming at the mouth until Kurt shoot her neatly in the forehead, making her body collapse on the cement floor with a thud that seemed to echo in Quinn's ears.

"What…" Quinn couldn't believe what just happened, "What did you…what did you guys just _do?_"

"We killed people for our own gain. Nothing you haven't done Quinn," Kurt said, wiping blood spatter off his face.

"_Kurt,_" Rachel whisper hissed, reaching down and setting her rifle down in order to pick up the weapon the man had. "Unloaded. Quite foolish to allow us inside with our weapons on our person."

Sam unbuttoned his coat, and wiped at his eyes and with the sweatshirt underneath. Then he leaned over and threw up.

Brittany was staring at the woman she'd shot, then turned to Quinn, "I don't think I want to use guns any more Quinn...I wish they hadn't been so mean."

Quinn didn't even know what to say to her. Brittany had killed someone.

Brittany -a girl who had believed in Santa until she was 16.

_Brittany. _

When Sam was finished throwing up, he stared at the body of the man, "I..god. They were hoarding everything, I can't let Stevie die. I can't. God."

Quinn wanted to point out that they could have traded the chickens, or Kurt's mechanic skills, or something. Instead of _this._ She kept quiet, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling, looking at the bodies around them.

"We have to protect our family," Rachel said, picking up her rifle again, and leaving the other weapon on the counter, "We have to. We've already lost too much -and they would have done the same thing if the situation was reversed. We need to gather what we can now if we hope to make it back before the daylight is gone. Maybe they have a vehicle we can take?"

Numbly, Quinn followed them behind the receptionists counter.

No sounds of feet rushing to see what had happened. No doors slamming and locking rose to great them. No, all that was heard was a low moaning.

They stuck together as they sought out the noise, tiredly moving as a group through the open floor plan that made up the back of the clinic, looking casually through each room as they did so.

Finally, they found the source of the noise.

A girl, about their age, on a cot.

She was pretty, red haired, and moving listlessly on the cot. When she saw them with half open, slightly glazed eyes, she started saying, "No, no no."

Quinn was just about to ask what they were going to do with her, when she saw the bandage on the girls wrist.

She stepped forward, setting her gun on the chair next to the cot, and gently unbandaged the bandage, the girl too weak to move her wrist from Quinn's grasp.

A bite mark stared at

Say what you will about the people who they had just killed -they had cared enough about this girl to bandage her bite mark, and give her a comfortable place to rest.

The red haired girl must have been bitten just before they'd gotten to the clinic. God, had it been less than five minutes since they'd arrived? Quinn's sense of time must be way off.

"A bite," she stated flatly just in case anyone couldn't see it in the dim candle light.

She picked up her gun, and aimed it at the girl's head, "I'm sorry this happened to you, I'm sorry we came here. I'm just...sorry," she whispered, then she pulled the trigger, and put the girl out of her misery.

She took a deep breath, then turned around to face the others.

"Pair up. I'll go see if they have a vehicle we can use, Kurt and Sam you start packing the medicine up -boxes if we find a car, our bags if we don't. Brittany, Rachel, see if there's anything we can use -candles, food, whatever. Let's be quick, and get home before dark."

Then, without another word to any of them, she pushed past them. She needed to get away from all of them, couldn't look at any of them right now.

* * *

There was a truck with snow tires on it. The people at the clinic didn't have as much medicine as they were trying to lead them to believe -but it was more than enough for Quinn and the group's needs. And then some. Medicine, and first aid, were going to be fine for them for a year or two, assuming nothing awful happened. There was even a book on what pills did and were for, to Tina's great joy.

There was also a plethora of candles.

The man hadn't been kidding when he'd said they had needed food -they'd only found a couple dozen cans of fruits and veggies, and to everyone's resignation, several tubs of oatmeal.

At least the fruit would be nice with it.

They'd arrived at the apartment an hour after it got dark, stopping for Puck's truck along the way.

It wasn't until several days later that Quinn had realized, in a fever haze, that they'd forgotten to check on Terri and Blaine and the kids.

It took Tina a few days to start really feeling better; the kids a day or two after her. The rest of them -the five who had left the apartment, took far longer. So Tina did everything that needed to be done -cooking, snow gathering, boiling the snow, firewood bringing, chicken care, changing clothing and sheets - _everything._ She made sure the children had plenty of fluids, she made sure everyone had medicine.

It was her that greeted Terri, Blaine, Sarah, and Dahlia and Theresa when they came back to the apartment -all five of them sick, the infants barely getting enough breath into their tiny feverish bodies, puppies shivering in Sarah's arms, keeping the girl warm during their trek.

It was her that nursed everyone back to health, and Rachel would be forever grateful to her for it. She'd even offered to switch beds and let Tina have her's, with its storage and streamlined lines.

Tina had declined.

Rachel had insisted -she didn't need the extra storage now that Christopher…She did not need it now.

Tina had said no, and Rachel decided to leave it at that -she'd show the girl her appreciation, somehow.

All of them had really come together as a team to work together, and sometimes, Rachel would catch herself wistfully wishing they had worked this hard together back when it was just winning a glee competition was all that mattered.

Rachel had barely had time for a moment alone -let alone a moment to steal away with Quinn. It helped her not think about her newest loss, even if it didn't make her miss the toddler any less.

When, nine days after they'd left the apartment in search of medicine, she saw the pink haired girl slip away downstairs, it didn't take Rachel much time to decide to follow her.

She found her on the second floor, staring out the window.

"Quinn?" She said softly.

"Rachel…I think I'd rather be alone right now."

"Understandable, alone time is a scare commodity right now. But so is _couple_ time -and I have missed you fiercely." Rachel stepped forward, closing the door softly behind her, standing next to Quinn.

"I…I just can't stop thinking about what we did."

"It was…not ideal, but we did what we must."

Quinn stared at the floor, before finally looking at Rachel in the eyes. "You don't get it, do you Rachel? No matter how much we justify ourselves, there's no getting around it. We're the bad guys," she finished dryly, and stared out the window again as the snow, gentle for the moment, came down.

"No." Rachel said flatly, gently touching Quinn's shoulder, "I absolutely refuse to believe we are the villains of this story Quinn Fabray. The Anti-Heroes, perhaps, if you insist. But out right villains? No."

Rachel gently caressed from Quinn's shoulder, down her arm, to her hand. She firmly grabbed it, and pulled Quinn closer, and whispered into Quinn's ear, "Some times good people have to do bad things. If we had not…who else would have died?"

She felt daring, being so close to Quinn. She hated that she felt so needy, and towards Quinn specifically. It seemed like she always found herself hovering around the blonde girl, asking for no more than a smile or, if she was lucky, a quiet moment together, just feeling electric and alive in each other's presence before they were interrupted. Sometimes she felt as though Quinn was leading her on, that this was all part of a horrible prank designed to make Rachel look like a pathetic fool.

Finn seemed like a life time ago, that an entirely different Rachel had loved him. Now all she needed was Quinn. She _would_ make Quinn smile again.

Quinn wrapped an arm around her, and just held her. Rachel enjoyed the warmth and just the simple pleasure of being held, a comfort she had been sorely missing. Which is why it took her a few moments to realize Quinn was crying.

"Oh Quinn," Rachel murmured, and wrapped her arms around the blonde girl, rubbing her back gently.

Finally, Quinn pulled away from Rachel, and brushed her tears away.

"You know, you've changed," Quinn whispered, "Colder. The Rachel from before was a vegan. She would have been horrified at what we did. "

"What we _had_ to do. And Quinn? That Rachel had not seen her father's die. She had not seen the cruelty her fellow man could do to each other; yes, she'd protested and signed petitions and donated money to help those in far away countries who had experienced such cruelty, but she'd never known it herself. She did not know what it was like to go to bed hungry, cold, or fearing what tomorrow could bring besides not getting the solo she wanted, or not bringing enough extra sets of clothing in case of rampant slushying," Rachel stated, "But even she, when faced with the facts, would concede, if abet reluctantly, that I am correct."

The Rachel from before would have never even dared to dream she had a chance with Quinn Fabray, head cheerleader, even if all her list making pointed that Quinn would be the best female match with Rachel, should Rachel decide to pursue that path. And she had listed and charted and graphed for weeks to try to receive a different, easier answer. It had been much more then the simple pro con list she had told Quinn.

But it always came up as Quinn. Rachel had simply decided her crush on the blonde girl was clouding her rationality, and pushed away the thought of possibly being with a woman while in high school.

In honor, and in mourning of that Rachel's hopes and dreams and silly fears, briefly hesitating for a moment, Rachel leaned up and gently kissed Quinn.

"What the fuck?" Santana's voice came clearly from behind them. Quinn pulled away from Rachel so fast Rachel barely had a second to feel hurt before Santana stalked into the room and stood in front of her.

* * *

**A/N:** RIP Christopher.

So a lot happened in this chapter, but I'll just focus on this: Is Quinn right? Are they the bad guys? Or is Rachel right? Did they do what they had to do for their family? Maybe it's a mixture of both? It's an interesting question -how far would you, or _anyone_ go, to protect your own family, even if it meant someone else's family would go without, and possibly die?

I hold back the update to fix a couple of things, and end up adding 2K. Such is life. ;)

Once more, signed reviews will get a sneak peek of the next chapter.


	29. 99 Problems

"What the fuck?" Santana's voice came clearly from behind them. Quinn pulled away from Rachel so fast Rachel barely had a second to feel hurt before Santana stalked into the room and stood in front of her.

"Ugh," Santana sneered at Rachel, "Gee,_ thanks_ Berry. You just got me doing Brittany's chores for two weeks. She's probably going to give me her laundry duty, it's the worst."

Likely Santana saw the look that was currently on Rachel's face -shock, confusion, and a bit of hurt, because with a snort and a glare, Santana added, "Brittany was worried about you single people being lonely. One thing lead to another, and we…well, mostly _me,_ were betting on how long it'd take for you guys to try to hook up with each other. I bet that you and Sam would first, in another monthish. Didn't figure you'd go for Quinn. Wanky," The Latina girl grinned at the Rachel, her face instantly softening and Rachel let go of the slight fear she had of the other girl a moment ago. Santana wiggled her eyebrows, "It's 'cause she's in charge isn't it? Couldn't resist the allure of power could you? Well, you're barking up the wrong tree -I mean, sure, Quinn's totally snunk peaks at me and Britt's in the locker room, but who hasn't? We're hot. " Santana laughed, then with a mean smirk at Quinn, added, "She's totally still hung up on that big oaf you both dated."

Rachel closed her mouth -just now realizing it was open, and stared at Santana for a moment, trying to figure out what to say.

Could Santana really have no utter idea about Quinn?

"I was not attempting to…_hook up,_ with Quinn, Santana," was all she could finally mutter.

Quinn remained silent, torn between staring out the window, and staring at the pair of them, a look on her face the clearly showed she was scared Rachel was going to tell Santana what had actually happened.

Santana cocked her head to the side, she drawled, "Then what happened? You tripped and fell onto her lips?"

A mean, horrible, selfish part of her just wanted to blurt out what had actually happened -the pair were in a quasi relationship, and Rachel had kissed her to comfort her.

The more rational, giving side of her took over, and she simply sighed, then said lightly, "Finn had once remarked that Quinn was a better kisser then I am. Curiosity and free time lead to me asking Quinn, purely for knowledge's sake, if I may kiss her. She agreed -I can only assume my request shocked her into saying yes. Then you walked in."

Santana laughed, "You are such a weirdo Berry. With …way too much time on your hands." Santana's second sentence got quieter, and Rachel assumed it was because the other girl remembered why, exactly, Rachel now how much more free time. Voice normal, Santana added, "For the record? Brittany's the best kisser. I mean, I haven't kissed Quinn, but no way is she better then Britt's."

"And I am sure Kurt would say Blaine is the best kisser. Perhaps we should organize a tournament?"

Santana laughed, "Nahh, Britt's would win, hands down. Anything Kurt knows, she taught him. Now come on you two, dinner's ready. Tina and Brittany think we should all eat together. And you'll never guess what we're having."

"Oatmeal?" Quinn asked flatly, not looking at Rachel.

"Oatmeal and _fruit_ and _tuna_," Santana amended, then added, "I would totally kill Blaine and Kurt for some pizza. Extra meat, extra _extra_ bacon."

Quinn flinched at Santana's words as Rachel allowed the pair of them to walk back to the apartment in front of her, her thoughts racing.

She hated that one part of her still thought she should have just admitted to Santana what had actually happened. And another part of her was wondering if perhaps they should talk about what they'd done…no one had, as far as she knew, except for what Quinn and her had just discussed. Perhaps the others were feeling the same as Quinn, and it would behoove them to talk about it.

It would give her something to think about besides Quinn's rejection, or Christopher's death, anyway.

* * *

Later that day, Rachel was attempting to be casual as she leaned against the wall, attempting to read, but mostly trying to catch Quinn's eye, when Sarah nervously came up to her, the poodle puppy. The brown haired girl looked down, then shyly looked up at Rachel -not that she had far to look, at almost ten years old Sarah Puckerman was only a few inches shorter then Rachel, and said, "You're Jewish right Rachel?"

"Well, yes..?" Rachel set aside the book she hadn't been reading on the counter next to her -the light was too dim, and she couldn't stop herself from sneaking glances at Quinn, hoping to catch her eye and get her away from the others so they could have a much needed talk.

"And you had a bar mitzvah and stuff right?" The girl toed the carpet with a sock covered foot, biting her lip.

"A bat mitzvah, yes. Bar mitzvah's are what boys have." Rachel gently corrected, staring at Quinn as she read a picture book to Abby, Beth, Tiffany and Lord Tubbington. It was silly, but it seemed like the cat was actually listening.

Sarah winced, "Sorry. Do you know Hebrew? Puck only learned enough to get through his bar mitzvah, and he messed up a lot."

"I know Hebrew yes. I am quite fluent, Daddy insisted on it. I know far more then Spanish or French, I am only passable in French, and my Spanish…well, it could certainly use work..." Rachel trailed off and finally looked at the other girl, waiting for her to say where she was going with this line of thinking.

"Mom," Sarah whispered, then louder said, "Mom was learning Hebrew? She was on a learning her _-our_, roots kick. Said she wanted to learn Yiddish after she'd mastered Hebrew. And I thought…well, it'd be nice to learn it? Since she…_can't_ any more. I've got her books with me, if that'll help? I wasn't going to bother to even have a bat mitzvah before, since Puck's was kinda a disappointment for him and Mom and really expensive too I think. I was little but I remember there was only like a couple dozen people there, so he was upset he didn't get all the presents mom said he would, and Mom was mad because he'd messed up a lot and didn't take it seriously. Mostly I remember because we were eating the leftovers for a few weeks, and they argued about it a lot."

Rachel's own bat mitzvah had been attended by nearly 200 people, and the money she'd collected from that night was a very large sum- a sum that had been significantly raised as her few elderly relatives had died off in the years following, leaving just her and her parents, and a widowed great Aunt and cousin in Washington that they did not see very often at all.

She'd planned on using the money for her first year's tuition and expenses after she graduated high school, to lessen the burden on her father's -less the cost of the car she'd been leasing. They had elected not to have Rachel drive it behind them because some part of them had thought things would go back to normal eventually, and hadn't wanted to risk damaging the car. And, of course, it was an electric car and had a limited charge range. Rachel had been thoroughly spoiled and refused to "damage" the earth with by using gasoline in her car, and had actually argued about using gasoline with her parent's vehicle.

Of course, that money was now as useless as her car.

How foolish and naive she had been.

"So…" Sarah continued, "Can you teach me? Please? And maybe we can do a church thing too? I..want to try to…mom really wanted us to embrace our Jewish side."

"Temple. And I would be happy too," Rachel smiled at Sarah, who grinned at her back and snuggled the puppy in her arms.

It would be nice to do something besides pine after Quinn and mourn. It would not hurt, either, for Rachel to reconnect with her spirituality -a connection that had been severely lacking since that horrible first day.

* * *

Kurt frowned carefully at the window -he had this way of doing it that he swore ensured he wouldn't get frown lines when he was old.

Santana figured they had bigger things to worry about then frown lines, but whatever.

"It's really starting to snow pretty hard out there," he said, turning from the window and looking at all of them gathered in the living room. "We should move our vehicles to the garage."

When Quinn didn't answer, Santana drawled "Why?" as she tossed Beth's favorite stuffed animal against the far wall, and watched Beth toddle after it. When the toddler came back to Santana holding the bear out to Santana, she simply tossed the bear again.

Playing fetch with Beth was fun, and it annoyed Quinn (who was reading on the couch next to her, and begrudgingly letting this happen). Win win.

"Because it'll be a lot less work for me when the snow stops?" Kurt snipped, rolling his eyes, he faced them both, "There's just a bunch of things that could go wrong, and might not be able to fix easily given, you know, the zombies…like needing a new battery? Or spark plugs? Sooo…" he stared at Quinn.

"Next time you and Blaine go to work on the bus, take enough people with you to take all the cars? You're the expert, if you say we should then we will," Quinn looked up briefly from her book, nodding at Kurt, then rolling her eyes at Santana as Santana tossed the bear again, almost hitting Tina in the face.

"We'll need to figure out how to get inside the garage door since there's no power…" Kurt muttered.

"How's that bus coming along anyway," Santana asked, tossing the bear with a little extra strength and watching as it flew across the apartment, and bounced off of Blaine's head. Blaine gave a little sigh and a small shake of his head as he looked reproachfully at Santana.

Five points.

Kurt shrugged, and a light blush covered his face as he answered, "Fine."

Santana smirked at him, "I just bet it's_ coming_ along…_loudly._"

"Santana leave Kurt alone. And stop treating my baby like a dog," Quinn looked up from her book again, "Isn't there something you could be doing right now?"

"I bet I could teach Abby some interesting words." Santana grinned at Quinn.

"You're awful."

Santana stood up carefully, handing the bear back to Beth who looked confused on why Santana wasn't throwing it, "It's not my fault your kid got some weird dog genes from Puckerman that made her like playing fetch."

Quinn merely rolled her eyes, and Santana walked over to where Stevie and Kyle were sitting playing chess on a tiny travel board they'd found in one of the apartments, the lab puppy sprawled in between them. She ambled over there, and sat next to Kyle, absently mindedly pulling up the blanket that'd fallen back up his shoulders.

"Hey Squirt, how you feeling? And who's winning?" She leaned back, and patted the puppy on the stomach.

"I am," Kyle mumbled, "And okay I guess. I'm glad they found asthma medicine, I was getting scared."

"He was really scared about not being able to breathe Santana, and I let him have Midnight at his feet when we went to bed and that helped, " Stevie muttered, frowning with concentration as he used his queen to take one of Kyle's pawns.

"You do realize that dog is not black, right? That Midnight is a ridiculous name for her?" Santana reached over and moved Kyle's queen before the red haired boy could move it on his own.

"I was going to do that Santana," he grumbled, "And Midnight's a cool name. Sarah named the poodle _Bacon._"

"And Brittany named the lady German Sheppard Churchill," Santana said, shrugging, "But giving the dog a color name they aren't is just…lame."

"Stacy always wanted a dog named midnight," Stevie quietly said, looking down at the board and not meeting either of their eyes.

Santana felt like an ass. "Did I say lame? I meant cool. And if we find another dog you can name that one Midnight too."

She was bad with kids, point blank.

When Stevie didn't answer, Kyle said, "Wouldn't that get confusing having two dogs named the same thing?"

"Nahh, we could just name the new one Midnight Jr. or Midnight the second. That has a certain ring to it, doesn't it? Or we could just eat one of them."

"You are so weird Santana." Stevie said after both boys finished making it clear how gross eating a dog would be.

"And you, little Evans, are lucky you didn't get the lips your brother inherited from your mutual fish ancestor."

* * *

The snow fell.

And very quickly, they were snowed in.

One day turned into two, turned into three, turned into four. Finally, they'd been snowed in for five days.

They were low on firewood -it'd taken a lot to keep them warm, fed, and watered.

They were extremely worrying low on food. They'd broken into Mack's emergency stash, and while really bland, it was food.

A few times during the long days, she caught herself looking at Abby, and wanting to go care for the girl.

Between Brittany and Quinn, Abby was well taken care of. There was no reason for Rachel to take over Abby's care.

It was simple selfishness- and Rachel being pathetic.

Christopher was...dead, Dahlia was being cared for exclusively by Kurt and Blaine (as it should be), Quinn wouldn't even look at her, and whatever they had was quite clearly over, even if Rachel had yet had the chance to speak to Quinn and confirm it. Rachel was sad and lonely and wanting affection, even if it was from a stolen child.

She was simply utterly pathetic.

She made herself keep busy -she'd taken to preparing the lunch time meal, and usually gathering the snow needed for the day too if Sam hadn't gotten to it first, and lugging up bundle after bundle of firewood from the first floor to the fourth.

And she made lists.

Obsessively.

Most of them were useless (although she did inspire a group conversation that lasted for a few hours when Santana saw her 'Celebrities likely Alive' list) -but a few weren't. Like the one that was a simple wardrobe overhaul from her current collection of clothing to items that would be useful during both the winter and summer -likely they would have to track down a specialized sporting goods store. If they managed to, she would only keep a few items in her wardrobe, and replace most.

Or books.

It would be extremely helpful if they tracked down a bookstore or three -she had lists and lists of what books they needed. It ranged from books on helping deal with death, to needed survival books, to schooling for the children.

She felt so old, so weary. Especially when she found herself in the kitchen, looking at their dwindling food supplies lower itself day by day.

They were all incredibly sick of oatmeal.

For an early Thanksgiving celebration, unable to wait till the actual day, they'd killed two of the chickens and managed to make a weird type of bread with the last of the flour and corn meal. As Santana's birthday present, she got to split the last slice with Terri.

Rachel could begrudgingly admit that the chicken has been the best thing she'd eaten in a very long while, even if she couldn't stop wonder if the other chickens missed the two they'd killed.

It'd been almost two weeks since Christopher had died, and Rachel hated how she'd become, once more, used to being alone. Used to death. Used to the constant gnawing fear as their food supply steadily grew lower and lower. Despite the efforts made by Brittany, Tina, and even Santana -and of course there were her tentative fumbling friendship renewal with Blaine, she longed for Quinn, even their unsatisfactory relationship would be better than being so alone.

They were all worried -an unvoiced worry that interrupted sleep, and made those with children to think about spoon a few bites of their food into the kid's bowl -Rachel had even caught Brittany putting some of her food into Santana's bowl when the other girl wasn't looking. Quinn looked weary and tired, and Rachel had wondered more than once if it was concern about their food, or about their relationship that kept the pink haired girl up. Then had felt incredibly selfish about thinking that whatever they'd had but clearly no longer did would keep Quinn up at night where there were more pressing concerns.

She'd been surprised to see Santana spooning food into Kyle's bowl as well as Sarah's, taking turns with Sam to give the red haired boy -who was still weak, taking a long time to finish getting well, despite the new inhalers now in his possession in giving the child extra food.

Rachel found herself spending quite a bit of time with Sarah, which helped the loneliness greatly. Every few days or so, when one of them had an inkling, Rachel would read from the Torah to Sarah, and teach the girl a bit of Hebrew -moving slowly, clumsily using three books that Sarah had taken from her mother's belongings to help. It made Rachel realize that they should definitely implement some sort of school for the children, but that was not really a huge concern at the moment.

Not that she knew for sure, well, anything. Quinn wouldn't look at her, wouldn't answer her unless someone was paying attention (because heaven forbid they suspect Quinn of anything) and when she did, it was monosyllabic answers.

Granted, Quinn was speaking to everyone like that, so perhaps it was worry about their food situation, and how they were going to find more when the snow constantly falling, and being so deep it covered the front door of the building. The few times Rachel had looked outside, she hadn't seen anything besides whirling falling snow -but she had no doubts the smaller houses had snow up to the roofs.

Surely the zombies had to have frozen by now? Surely there was no earthly way possible they hadn't frozen -if it was a person out there, not a zombie, they would have frozen 10 times over by now.

Rachel was a little envious about her lack of someone to care about that she'd sacrifice a few precious bites of food for them.

It was rather messed up. She'd thought about slipping Sarah a few bites of food -but, selfishly, she reasoned she needed every meager bit for herself, and Sarah was in no more danger then the rest of them.

They were already well into Mack's supply of dehydrated food and jerky -Rachel had at first refused the jerky, silently giving it to whoever was nearest to her with it was doled out, but had eventually caved, and with visions of helpless baby cows mooing at her accusingly dancing in her eyes, had eaten it.

They'd joined her nightmares, lately usually devoured by her zombie parents, still mooing at Rachel accusingly as they got bloody bites ripped out of them.

"Santana please stop drawing on my sister," Blaine sighed weary. Kurt, added snippily, "Really Santana?"

"Don't get your panties twisted with Blaine's, Kurt. Unless you two are into that. She looks cool and it's nontoxic and washable. "

Kurt tisked her, "You drew a _barbed wire tattoo_ on her arm."

"Yeah, it's ironic. Can't wait till Terri's spawn is old enough to draw on -I've got plans for a wicked back tat."

Rachel stirred the big pot of oatmeal carefully, with even measured stirs. The fire threw out a merry looking light that, combined with the heat, almost made the living room cozy, and a small smile, amused at Santana's antics with their second youngest member slipped through even as she carefully watched the spoon.

It would not do for her to waste a single drop because it went over the side of the pot onto the floor.

(Speaking of the floor, it was filthy. It needed a good sweeping, and the tile could use a mopping as well. Likely no one had thought to do so. She would after lunch. It was not as though she had anything else to do today. Sarah and she had already had their lesson, -she simply could not attempt to read again, still unable to concentrate on the words with just the dim light provided by the few candles Quinn had allotted for their use.)

The oatmeal had been carefully rationed out. As well as the baby formula that they'd taken to adding to their meals to give everyone some extra calories and fats.

Apparently, baby formula did not have a long shelf life once opened, and considering a good portion of the formula they'd found in the home day care downstairs had been opened, it'd been decided to only give what they opened to Dahlia just in case.

(Terri had, surprisingly, and rather, in Rachel's opinion, uncharacteristically, offered to breastfeed Dahlia as well as Theresa as long as she had the milk, to stretch out the formula they had for Dahlia . Likely because she got a bit more extra food on top of the extra she was already receiving, but perhaps she'd bonded a bit with the baby, or it was mothering instincts coming out. Who knew.)

And then they'd gotten low on food, and it was decided to use it.

Well, _Brittany_ had decided -and no one had noticed until she'd mentioned it.

Rachel had certainly felt a bit less hungry after their meager meal had been pumped up a bit with the formula -everyone else had certainly seemed to feel the same, because no one voiced an opinion one way or another about it.

So whoever's turn it was to make their meals that day simply added a few scoops per person -they were racing against the clock on how bad the formula went, already a few cans were starting to _brown_.

It was another thing in the long list of everything going wrong.

The snow's continuous falling would likely be number one on everyone else's list, since it impeded their attempts at fixing number two on the list -low food supply. And while, yes, it was worrisome that the snow had fallen enough that the front door to their building was blocked, and they were running incredibly low on food…but Rachel was selfish enough to admit her number one was simply Quinn.

As silly was it to be concerned about relationship matters. Or in this case, lack of relationship.

_(She still wouldn't look at Rachel. She avoided Rachel. And oh how it stung every time Rachel did catch her eyes, Quinn would look away.) _

"Shit."

Shocked that Sam was cursing, she almost dropped the spoon in the oatmeal before turning and watching as he came in, stomping snow off his boots. Everyone was looking at him as he set down the buckets with fresh snow for their water in it, then took off his coat.

"Sam?" Quinn asked, clutching Beth to her.

"There's…there's zombies outside. Under the snow." Sam scowled, the look was rather off putting seeing on his face, "We're going to have to get our snow off the balconies now. Or the roof? Somehow."

"_Under_ the snow? How…they didn't _know_ we were _here._" Kurt spat out, then leaned against Blaine, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

"We…" Blaine said softly, "When we left the house and came back, there was a…gaggle of them surrounding us. I didn't…I didn't think they'd follow us here, or stick around. I'm sorry. I-"

"You were _sick._" Quinn cut him off, and stood up, Beth on her hip. She looked at Beth, and Rachel could practically see the wheels turning in her head, "We'll draw them away. Next break in the snow we'll leave, and only travel when it's not snowing. We need to get food anyway."

"That could take _days_," Tina whispered, "When was the last time it stopped snowing for longer than twenty minutes?"

"I know. Tomorrow morning if it doesn't stop today. Volunteer only." Quinn nuzzled Beth, wrapping her arms tighter around the toddler.

Rachel did not know who she was most envious of -Quinn, or Beth.

She set the spoon down carefully, and grabbed the pot by the handles, carried it to the kitchen, where she set it neatly on a trivet next to the stack of bowls ready to be filled.

Licking her lips, she turned and said, "I am going."

She looked Quinn straight in the eyes.

Quinn didn't look away.

And Rachel felt a little spark of hope.

Quinn Fabray was not going to continue ignoring her -one way or another, they were going to_ talk_. Even if it was just to get confirmation that their seed of a relationship was dead before it could even really sprout.

* * *

It did not stop snowing by the time the children were in their beds, in that small slice of time before the rest of them went to sleep as well. They went to bed fairly early, which wasn't a huge surprise. It was difficult to get anything done in the candle light, and they were all rather tired by then anyway.

Rachel looked around at everyone gathered in the living room, surrounding the low fire, and stood up from where she had been perched on the couch.

She'd been musing that those who weren't there -they did not know what had happened. And it was likely still on Quinn's mind, and perhaps it was fair to tell everyone what had happened, what they'd done, just to clear the air.

Hopefully it'd make Quinn feel better about what had happened, if it was indeed still on her mind.

"I believe we should speak about what happened when we went out for medicine," she said, her voice low but clear, looking at everyone one at a time as she spoke.

Sam looked ill at the thought, Kurt looked bored, Brittany looked sad, and Quinn looked anywhere but at Rachel.

Tina, Santana, Terri and Blaine looked confused.

Blaine broke the silence, "What exactly happened?" he asked quietly, eyes darting from Rachel to look at Kurt. Prompting Kurt to drolly explained what had happened to the quartet, who listened to every word.

"We did what we had to do. And no one, certainly not _Quinn_, can fault us for that," Kurt finished, tossing a glare at Quinn.

"Kurt," Rachel said forcefully, "Leave Quinn alone. It is not…it is not the same situation at all."

Kurt turned his glare to Rachel, "It's not? How exactly is it different? Why are you defending her? She killed your mother. I'd never forgive any one of you if you'd murdered my dad. Not even Blaine."

"We…" Sam clutched Churchill, who was half on his lap, closer to him, "We killed those people and took their stuff. And we have to live with that. Rachel's right -what Quinn did to Shelby isn't the same thing at all."

Santana looked at Brittany, "All of you?" Her voice had gone higher looking at Brittany.

Brittany nodded, "Me too. I hit her in the stomach...You were so sick Sanny. Tiffany too. And Christopher had _died_…they wanted to trade for food, but we didn't have enough for what we needed," Brittany set down her knitting, "I don't like hurting people, and I really don't like guns. There was so much blood."

"They…implied we could trade…sexual favors," Quinn said quietly, "Or at least, the leader…looked Brittany up and down…I don't know if I saw what I thought I saw..."

"I…did not get that impression," Rachel said carefully, "but I doubt it was off the table."

"Well, I don't care what you had to do to get it, I'm just glad you did," Terri said tiredly, stroking the top of Theresa's head lightly as she carefully held the baby.

Theresa would have almost certainly died without the medicine. Dahlia too.

They had done the right thing.

"We could have traded most of the chickens," Quinn said softly, staring at the fire, "It didn't have to happen like it did. It shouldn't have happened like that."

"They tried to trick us, trade our weapons for everything we needed, just so they could kill us because we couldn't give into their ridiculous trade wishes." Kurt spat.

"We don't know that -they could have legitimately decided to trade us what we needed," Quinn said softly.

"I…I don't get how you can be upset about this Quinn," Tina said tentatively, "You..you did kill Shelby. I don't know if you have the…right? To be upset about what happened…Rachel, yes, but you?"

There was a pregnant pause, no one wanting to address the elephant in the room that was Shelby's ghost. Not even Rachel. Finally, she sighed, "I believe that as soon as we stumbled upon them, one group was going to die. It was inevitable. Either it was all of us, or all of them. That is…that is simply the world we live in now, as sad as it is. Perhaps, should the situation arise again, we attempt a more…diplomatic approach first, but at that moment, we were desperate and running on fumes."

"And they had everything, and wouldn't budge an inch," Sam muttered, "I've dreamed about the man I killed every night since. And I don't know if I'll ever stop dreaming about him. I…I hope I won't ever have to do something like that again -but I had to protect Stevie…Kyle..Terri's baby,_ everyone._ So…I hope I never have to do it again, but..if I have to, I _will._"

Rachel looked at Sam, really looked at him -and saw the bags under his eyes, the slight scruff on his face that hinted at the light brown beard he may one day be old enough to grow properly. Sam even looked..smaller, somehow.

But that could be explained by the lack of a proper amount of food for a teenage boy. A summer being a constant presence at the Hudson-Hummel household with three or four or more teenage boys in attendance (even Kurt seemed to eat massive amounts) had showed Rachel just how much a growing boy could eat.

Quinn was looking unseeing at the fire, and Rachel, as upset as she was with Quinn, felt a stab of sympathy.

"Please…please," she said clearly, "Please remember how upsetting and traumatizing that first day was. I know most of us lost our families then, but some of us," she looked pointedly at Kurt, "did not until later. Now try to imagine that on top of losing your family in a traumatic and awful way, you have had issues over the past year that centralized on one person in particular, who came back suddenly into your life. It is no wonder that Quinn was a little crazy that first day. I have forgiven Quinn, and think it is quite unfair of _any_ of you to throw Shelby in Quinn's face. That is only _my_ right -either you respect Quinn enough, as a _person_ and our leader, to allow her, her own opinions without bringing Shelby up every time you disagree with her or you do not. In that case, we shall, right now, vote someone else as a leader. Who shall it be?" When no one spoke up, Rachel softly added, "I for one do not want that burden on my shoulders. And I admire Quinn for taking it when she has her daughter and niece to think about."

Another longer, pregnant pause, before Santana laughed, "You know for sure it's the apocalypse if Rachel freaking Berry doesn't want to be in charge."

"Indeed," Rachel said, smiling at the other girl. She didn't think that was funny enough to laugh at, but no one else laughed either so there was that too.

"I…I'd like to say that I'd be with Kurt on this," Santana shook her head, "But I wasn't there so I can't really say. I hope things go peachy keen for us and no one has to make a choice like that again. How have you guys not mentioned this since it happened?"

"To be fair," Blaine pointed out, "The first few days we were all rather sick or just too busy."

"Killing people is bad, but they were killing us first by not helping," Brittany said quietly.

Rachel did wish that Brittany had not killed anyone.

"So now that we have all their medicine and first aid supplies, enough to last us a few years, even after handling whatever we were all sick with, if someone finds us and they need medicine, we should give them some right?" Quinn asked, meeting everyone's eyes.

Rachel shook her head, "If they have children, proof of those children, then of course…anyone else….I believe we would have to handle it on a case by case basis."

"And …trade maybe?" Kurt added.

"So we're really no better than them, are we?" Quinn pointed out.

"We're alive." Kurt shrugged, "I don't like that we had to kill them. Who would? But I'm not going to cry about it or anything. We did what we had to do -anyone else would have done the same thing. We aren't saint's, we shouldn't be afraid to get our hands dirty to protect ourselves. I think…I think even my dad would say the same. He was a good guy -but he would have put me, _us,_ first. "

"I think you are correct Kurt -perhaps at first he would be more generous…but he would have learned, eventually. As we have." Rachel put her hands over the fire, warming them for a moment, before interrupting the silence in the room by adding, "We should have talks like this regularly, I think. It is important we do so." She couldn't put into words just at the moment, why it was important, but everyone seemed to be on the page if the quiet agreements that followed her words were any indication.

* * *

The next morning, they'd rushed through their morning tasks, Beth and Abby safely held in the playpen, while Terri watched over Dahlia as the baby sat on a blanket on the floor making grabby hands at Churchill, who would occasionally nose the baby, making her giggle, but seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on everyone.

Rachel didn't know if she'd spent too much time around Lord Tubbington or not, but she was starting to think Brittany was some sort of magic witch when it came to training animals. The blonde girl spent the most time with Churchill, but …Bacon (she strongly suspected that Quinn had a hand in naming that dog, even if Sarah insisted otherwise) and Midnight spent time with Brittany each day as well and it showed.

Once Sam opened the front door, back up from checking on and taking care of their chickens, Quinn put a hand drawn map of the area around their building on the table.

Unsurprisingly, everyone except Terri had volunteered to go out in search of supplies.

Rachel suspected it was more of a case of cabin fever than anything else.

Quinn waited until Sam had finished taking off layers of clothing and hanging them up, joining them at the table, to start talking.

"Alright, here is, given everyone's memories before the snow turned it into a winter wonderland, a very basic map. There's a lot of houses we haven't checked out," She pointed to the buildings crossed off, "and here's the one's we have. We're going to go outside, and draw away the zombies surrounding the building. We'll try to kill them, if we can, otherwise, someone's going to go walking for a while with the snowshoes then fire a gun, and hopefully that'll get them away."

"Maybe they shouldn't go alone..?" Tina suggested.

"_Two_ someone's will walk a while with the snow shoes then fire a gun, drawing them away hopefully," Quinn corrected herself, "While the rest of us take the houses in pairs. Go in, stuff your bags with food first. If there's room, toilet paper, diapers. Anything else we might want -blankets, clothes, books, whatever, put in the kitchen. Then get out, and unload at the sled, and go back in if there's more food to get. If not, move on to your next house. Each pair gets two houses, hopefully that'll be enough food to last us a while, and we won't have to go out again until the snow isn't as deep."

"How shall we pair up?" Rachel asked, carefully looking at Quinn.

"I don't know yet -we'll see. Anything else?" When no one answered, Quinn said, "Well, then get dressed, get your weapons, and let's go."

* * *

Santana fiddled with the baseball bat slung across her back, and double checked on the gun she'd claimed as her's and triple checked she had extra ammo stuffed in her pockets, that her flashlight worked, then she messed with the straps of her backpack, adjusting it as she waited for everyone else to finish their own adjustments and checks.

It was probably really messed up she was looking forward to killing zombies and going through houses.

She just hated feeling so useless, and depending on everyone else to make sure they had food and protection -to make sure _Brittany,_ Brittany and Tiffany, had food and protection.

That was Santana's job -to protect and take care of her lady. She'd always planned on taking care of Brittany once they'd graduated, had been doing her damnest to make sure Brittany graduated, and it was like a thorn under her skin to not be able to take care of her and her sister until now.

And finally, after what seemed like for freaking ever, she was able too.

After Brittany had freaking killed someone.

Frankly, learning that had made her want to cry. And she'd done so, in the privacy of their bed later that night -big blubbery embarrassing tears while Brittany comforted her.

She could put up with a lot -zombies, her injuries, death, whatever, but Brittany killing someone because they needed what those people had?

That was going to take some getting used to.

"Are you lameos ready yet?" Santana drawled, unable to keep the grin off her face as she looked at the window they were forced to climb through since the door was way too blocked to try to open.

She was seriously messed up.

"Yeah, I think we are," Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I call first out the window," she grinned, and shoved the curtain aside to the open window. The snow had fallen so much that it was nearly level with the windows.

They were on the second floor. Santana was trying really hard not to think about how freaking scary that was.

She stepped out of the widow, and stood next to the window, leaning in and calling, "Hurry up slow pokes."

She stepped aside, taking a few tentative steps away from the building. Grinning, because even though it was cold as heck, despite her being bundled up, it was nice to be outside, she started walking backwards away from the window, calling out to Tina and Rachel, who were peering through the window looking around, "Hey hurry up, sooner we get down, sooner we get bac-"

She fell through the snow, unable to finish her sentence.

She hit the ground with a thump, and was stunned for a moment, the breath knocked out of her.

She was in a freaking snow tunnel.

Unable to breath, and not quite sure what she was seeing, she tried to stand up, but ended up settling for leaning against the wall.

She heard a low moan, and a zombie stumbled towards her.

Then the zombie _grinned_ at her, black goop falling out of its mouth.

In its hand, it clutched a shovel.

No way.

No fucking way was this zombie smart enough to dig a freaking tunnel to eat their brains. She had hit her head when she fell in a soft spot of the snow or something. And this was an awful hallucination

No way was this real.

It swung the shovel at her head, and she barely managed to avoid it.

She could hear the other's calling her name, and couldn't let out a single scream as she tried to breath, and dodge the zombie's attack.

The gun. She had a gun. She fumbled, trying to find it -she'd dropped it when she fell.

Crap.

Low moans seemed to answer the zombie with the shovel, and Santana was suddenly terrified.

Hoping that she just hit her head really hard, and that the zombie wasn't smart enough to organize the other zombies to dig tunnels to get up to their windows and eat their tasty brains, she scrambled towards the building, barely dodging the zombie and it's shovel as she did so.

She just needed to get to a window, or at least the hole she made when she fell in.

"Santana?" Tina's voice said, before the girl herself hopped down through the hole Santana was rushing towards.

"Zombie with shovel." Santana gasped out, fumbling for her bat as Tina raised her own.

Thumps answered her, and she turned around to see the zombie on the ground, the shovel useless by its side.

She didn't know if it was really dead though, and there wasn't time to see before a zombie shuffled towards them, Tina taking care of it before Santana could react.

And then the second.

And the third.

At the fourth, the others were prying to nearest window open, and calling for them to hurry up and climb in.

Santana had to grab Tina's arm, and drag her towards the window, tossing her bat through she scrambled through it, the others pulling her, then Tina through.

Quinn slammed the window shut, and they all watched as zombie after zombie came forward.

There were so many.

Santana could only lean against the wall, still trying to catch her breath as she stared out the window -she only had a second of that before Brittany had her arms wrapped around Santana.

"Thank you Tina." Brittany finally said when she deemed Santana hugged enough.

"Yeah, thanks Tina Warrior Princess*, Xena's got nothing on you," Santana manage to gasp out, "My gun's down there somewhere."

"Yes. I do not believe we will be recovering it anytime soon. There is…quite a few zombies." Rachel said frowning.

That was an understatement.

"Did you get the freaky one trying to shovel me?" When Tina nodded, Santana added, "It's totally dead right?"

"Is it possible there's people out there who dug the tunnels and filled them with zombies? I mean…you had quite a fall. And, well, it's a zombie that used a shovel and lead the others…that sounds...?" Blaine asked.

"It's dead Santana. Blaine, I saw it too. It had a shovel in its hands." Tina closed the curtain and wrapped her arms around herself.

"We have to assume there is tunnels filled with zombies leading from Terri's house," Rachel mused, "As crazy as that sounds."

"So what do we do now? We can't check out any of the houses on the map now." Kurt grumbled, "We can't even go back to the garage."

"First we put what we can against the windows on the first floor, then try fill the tunnel in a few feet from the building, hopefully that was the only freaky smart zombie," Quinn said, "Then we grab the phonebook and the actual map, and see what's close enough."

"I suppose it is too much to wish that there will be a grocery store that is untouched and empty of zombies just a mere blocks away?" Rachel sighed as they starting lugging bookcases towards the window.

Santana held Brittany's hand the entire way back up to their apartment.

* * *

There was a small elementary school within a mile of their location.

They'd utterly missed it when they'd gone out in search of medicine as it wasn't relevant at the time.

They were awash with the possibilities -none of them were quite sure how much food a school kept on hand at all times, but at the very least it should be enough to last them a while, hopefully until the snow was more manageable. Rachel sincerely hoped there was enough food that it would require multiple trips to gather it all.

They took the sled again, as well as everyone equipped with backpacks. Blaine had reluctantly stayed behind with Terri after Quinn had insisted -it was quite possible they'd be gone a few days, and no one had wanted to leave her totally alone with two babies, two toddlers, and four children. As it was it was well past noon when they'd left after repacking their things, so at the very least they likely wouldn't return until tomorrow.

At first, Sam, Quinn, and Brittany wore the snowshoes, and pulled the sled. The rest of them rode on the sled -it wasn't ideal, but them walking behind the sled just did not work.

It took five hours to get to the school -five long, cold, hours -they had to constantly stop and dig out street signs to check and make sure they were going the right way, and Rachel insisted roughly the halfway point that Sam, Quinn, and Brittany take a turn riding. Tina, Kurt, Rachel, moved far slower pulling the sled then the original trio.

Brittany left yarn tied somewhere visible every time they stopped, to hopefully guide them easier on the way back.

The snow was falling lazily by the time the school was visible. Rachel lead the way to the covered front of the school -it was barely visible between the snow piled on the roof, and the snow in front. As Kurt and Sam started digging a path down and under, the others started a small fire with tiny bits of wood they'd brought with them, using themselves as best they could to protect the little fire -they'd brought stacks of wood for night time, even though it took up precious space on the sled.

None of them wanted to freeze to death during the night.

Sam and Kurt finished digging the rough stairs down to the school by the time the snow was done boiling -Rachel handed them both a mug of hot water she'd set in the snow to cool, taking care to protect it from the snow still falling, and both boys drank deeply as they followed the girls down the stairs into the covered area.

They all took turns sipping their hot water, before Quinn spoke, "Cafeteria first. We get everything we can. Everyone fill your bags up until you can barely carry them, and pile on the sled. Then hit the nurses section. If it's not too late- we can look through teacher's desks, whatever. Maybe they've got some snowshoes or hell, tennis rackets we can use. We stick together -one person on watch at all times."

"Do you think they'll be zombies?" Santana asked, twirling her bat.

Quinn shrugged, "There's zombies everywhere."

"I hope we don't see much more than a zombie cafeteria lady," Tina said.

"Surely there will not be many children, if any?" Rachel asked. She did not want to see another zombie child ever again. Brittany's face had paled, and Rachel was sure the tall blonde girl was in agreement.

"God, I hope not considering this is a freaking elementary school, but ….maybe?" Quinn shrugged again, and stood in front of the large glass doors that lead to the school. She pulled at one, then said, "Locked. That's a good sign, I think? Everyone have their bags, weapons, and flashlights?" After a chorus of yeses, Quinn nodded, "Alright, Rachel, do the honors."

She was certain that was the first time Quinn had said her name since Santana had caught them kissing. Rachel, with the help of Sam, pried open the doors with her crowbar.

Quinn stepped through the doors, snapping on her flashlight. One by one, they followed her.

"Remember, no guns unless there's no choices," Quinn muttered as they walked through the dark halls, occasionally checking the fire exit route maps to make sure they were on the right path to the cafeteria.

There were posters and drawing all along the walls. As they walked, Rachel wondered if Ione was alive, or if she'd died along with her dreams of being 6th grade class president.

Finally, they stood, breathing out foggy, icy cold breath, in front of the doors that lead to the cafeteria.

Quinn gripped the door, double checking it was unlocked, then pulled it open, allowing Sam and Tina to go through first. Santana opened the other one, and the five of them followed. Rachel propped them both open, reasoning it would make things easier if the doors just remained open.

It was dark and cavernous in the cafeteria. Sam was snapping on his flashlight when a growl came from their right.

"Zombie lunch lady," Tina grinned, and headed towards the sound as Sam pointed his flashlight towards the area.

"Uh, that's weird," Sam said, stepping to join Tina as they all stared at the fort made of cafeteria tables.

"Do you think we are perhaps not alone here?" Rachel asked, snapping on her flashlight and shining it at the fort as well.

"Well, 48 hours ago I would have said of course not, zombies can't freaking build….but, well…" Santana turned on her light too, she shined it around, "Hey Britt's, look, Snapple machine,"

Kurt stepped away from where he'd been staring at the odd fort, and joined the pair, asking "Is there peach flavor? It's Blaine's favorite…"

That left Rachel and Quinn alone. Her very cells seemed to vibrate standing so close to Quinn. She looked at the pink haired girl, telling herself it was not appropriate to try to speak to her right now about anything not related to their task.

"Let's go check out the kitchen," Quinn called.

"I'm going to take care of this one first," Tina said, "No sense in leaving it at our backs, right?" The light from Sam's flashlight cast odd shadows on Tina's face as she grinned at Quinn.

And suddenly the world was a roar of activity.

There were so many tiny forms streaming out of the fort, growling, it was so loud, there had to be a hundred, although it was so difficult to tell with only flashlights.

Rachel could only stand there in shock as Sam's light went out, barely noticing Santana pull Kurt and Brittany out a side door, as Quinn grabbed her hand and pulled her away and out another door.

* * *

Santana let out a growl of frustration, "Did either of you see what happened to Sam and Tina?" she whispered harshly, clutching her bat tightly.

They'd ran the way they'd come from, up and out of the makeshift snow stairs, and to a nearby house.

They were safe. And it sucked, because Sam, Quinn, Rachel, and Tina were still in that school. Santana had tried to go back, but Kurt and Brittany both had pulled her away, Kurt whispering roughly that there was too many zombies, and Brittany adding a number that was her best approximation, that Santana had already forgotten.

"Nooo…I just saw Quinn pull Rachel out of another door." Kurt shook his head, and resumed trying to coax the small fire to life.

They'd really lucked out on the first two story house they'd went to had been empty of zombies, but had enough wood inside they wouldn't freeze to death tonight.

"I didn't see anything after Sam's light went out," Brittany said, she looked at Santana with sad eyes, "Do you think they're all dead?"

"I…I don't know," She admitted, "Quinn and Rachel might be okay, if they can make it through the night. Sam and Tina..probably?"

She swung her bat, and sent a lamp flying against the wall.

It shattered in dozens of pieces.

Dropping her bat, she walked into the kitchen, and opened one of the cabinets, and grinned toothily when she found the one with the plates. She smashed each and every plate, and was reaching for the bowls when Brittany carefully made her way through the carnage, Kurt hovering nearby, and stopped her.

"San."

Breathing heavily, struggling against the tears that wanted to fall from her eyes, she turned, "Tomorrow. As soon as we can, we go back. I don't care how many creepy little kid zombies are in the building, we're not letting any of them walk around trying to eat the people. We owe them that, at least."

Kurt didn't look like he agreed, but wisely he simply nodded. Brittany simply wrapped her arms around Santana, pulling the her close.

That night they all cried together -Santana didn't even bother to threaten Kurt into not telling anyone she'd blubbered like a giant baby.

* * *

Quinn closed the door behind them loudly, then pulled Rachel away, regrabbing the other girl's hand that she'd been forced to let go in order to make sure the door shut. She didn't think about where they were going -just that they had to get away from all those zombies.

She'd seen enough to know that there was too many of them to even think about taking care of.

Finally, Quinn pulled them into a room that turned out to be a small nurses office. The only window was large, and almost completely blocked with snow. Silently, the pair pulled the desk and cot up against the door.

Then they sat quietly for several minutes.

Quinn knew she should say something trite, like "Everyone's okay."

They likely weren't though. Sam and Tina, at least, were dead. Santana, Brittany, and Kurt might or might not be.

She wondered what Blaine, Terri and the kids were going to do if none of them came back.

She snorted quietly to herself, she knew what Blaine would do. He'd go out by himself, and go overboard trying to take care of everyone until he died. Then it'd just be Terri, Beth and the others.

And Quinn was pretty sure Terri would try to take care of everyone as long as she could, but Quinn had no doubts one day, Terri would have enough of worrying about other people's children, and the kids would wake up and she and Theresa would be _gone._

She was pretty sure Sarah, Stevie and Kyle could manage to take care of Tiffany, Beth and Abby, but Dahlia was probably too little. Maybe. Sarah was almost 10,_ maybe_ she could manage. And that's assuming Kyle and Stevie even listened to her. Stevie was still being a jerk to her, clearly not coping with his sister's death well.

They needed some books or something, none of them had any idea how to help a kid through that. Maybe there would have been something in the library here, but obviously that wasn't going to happen.

Beth. She wished she didn't have to leave Beth -taking care of her was hard, yes, and worrying over her and Abby and the other children was harder, but now that she had her daughter back…

God, why did she always say it like that to herself?

Because it was easier then saying, "She murdered Shelby and kidnapped Beth."

She was delusional.

And it wasn't helping that Rachel kept defending her.

Even after Quinn had been fully ready to leave her to Santana's possible wraith alone, coward that Quinn was.

"I'm sorry," she muttered quietly, her eyes looking anywhere but at Rachel.

She'd dropped her flashlight somewhere, but still had on her backpack. At least the Glock was still firm in its holster, alone with her machete.

Rachel had her flashlight, her rifle slung across her back, the crowbar clutched tightly in her other hand, and her backpack still on. Even in the dim light, Quinn could see Rachel looked perfectly put together, besides the faint flush in her cheeks.

Rachel started looking around the room with her flashlight, taking a moment to do so before replying, "I hardly think it is your fault the school was swarming with zombies, Quinn."

"No," Rachel wasn't going to make this easier for her, and she shouldn't, "No, for leaving you to Santana's mercy's. I'm glad she was just annoyed she lost some stupid bet…but if she had, I don't know, attacked you? I would have let her. I'm an awful person, and I'm so sorry. You deserve better. If it wasn't for me…." Quinn couldn't even finish, a long held back sob escaped her throat.

"Quinn?" The thread of concern in Rachel's voice, instead of just the cold politeness that had been their earlier made Quinn cry harder, "Quinn please cry quieter, you are likely attracting unwanted attention."

Then Rachel set about gathering things off the shelves into neat piles.

When Quinn finished sobbing, hiccuping slightly, and annoyed wiping at her eyes, feeling awful and embarrassed, she turned back to Rachel.

Rachel finally looked up at her, from where she'd been stacking tongue depressors and cotton balls next to the small metal trashcan, and said softly, "Do you feel better now?"

"A little." And she did -she still felt crappy but not as much.

Rachel nodded, "Good. Now, please open the window, I am going to attempt to make a small fire, but only if we are able to get the window open a bit to ensure we do not suffer from carbon monoxide poison. Assuming you have Mack's lighter on you."

"I always have it on me," Quinn said, taking it out of an inner pocket in her jacket and handing it to Rachel, their fingers brushing, before stepping the two steps towards the window, picking up Rachel's crowbar along the way.

They worked quietly, before Quinn knew it she had the window open enough they wouldn't die in their sleep, and Rachel had a small fire crackling in the trashcan.

It was almost cozy, if you ignored the fact that they could hear the shuffling and moans outside the door, that they were trapped, and that at least a two of them were dead.

Maybe, maybe they could get the window open all the way and then dig their way out, but that'd have to wait until morning -there was no way they'd survive outside during night time.

They'd been sitting in silence, the flashlight propped up on the counter casting a dim glow through the room, sipping hot water (Rachel had a small pan in her bag, they all had a mug in their backpacks, and they gathered the snow as best they could from the window) and occasionally eating one of their five allotted lollypops from a jar on the counter, when Rachel said quietly, "Do you really want to be with me Quinn? Truly? Because your actions thus far say otherwise from your words."

Quinn swallowed the water in her mouth, and stared at Rachel, "I do. God, I have for a while. When you were with Jesse, I must have listened to Jesse's Girl hundreds of times."

Guilt every time she'd turned on the song, self loathing, nothing new. Once, she'd even daydreamed about keeping the baby, and raising her with Rachel, in a world where magically everything was okay with two teenage mother's raising an infant in high school by themselves while still achieving their dreams.

"I am glad to hear that, truly, but….I cannot _do_ this Quinn. Life is too fragile, too precious, and I refuse to have another dream that does not get a chance to flourish. Either we are together, or we are not. One more chance, Quinn, is all I am willing to give you, even if it means being alone." There was a thread of sad finality in Rachel's words.

"I…I can't help but wonder if I hadn't killed Shelby, if you and the others…wouldn't have been so quick to kill those people. Even Brittany…I'm just awful. I don't even know how you can forgive me for that…" Quinn said in a rush, not meeting Rachel's eyes.

Rachel sighed, "I am so very tired of Shelby's ghost hanging over us, of you using any excuse you can grab onto. What happened with those people would have happened no matter Shelby's fate, Quinn."

"You look so much like her, sometimes it's hard to look at you," Quinn whispered.

"I am not her. Perhaps we share some similarities and characters, but…" Rachel set down her mug, and scooted closer to Quinn, taking her cold hand that wasn't holding the mug, "Look at me Quinn. I am Rachel Barbra Berry, and once upon a time I was a future Broadway star with two loving parents who thought she was going to live happily ever after with Finn Hudson, somehow. I am simply a survivor. I wish to be yours, and have you be mine in kind, but I cannot do so with you hiding yourself as you are. There is enough going on that all _this_ is quite silly to devote energy and time too."

Quinn stared at Rachel, unsure if Rachel meant her words, if Quinn was brave enough. Maybe it'd stop the nightmares she had of Shelby -she invaded her already horrible nightmares of the kids starving to death, of Beth turning into a zombie.

"We might not even get out of here alive, Rachel, and you're right."

Then Quinn kissed her.

She was already pretending to know what the hell she was doing being the leader of their little group, what was wrong with pretending to accept herself, faults and all?

* * *

At dawn, they were up. They'd shoved all the food they had found into Kurt's bag, which was the largest, and the rest into Santana's and Brittany's, along with the other things they wanted, like toilet paper or some toys for the kids.

"I'm so glad Rachel made us dress extra warmly," Santana muttered as she zipped up her snow coat. She hadn't wanted to wear it -it was hideous, but Rachel had insisted they dress for the weather. Mostly Santana had argued just to annoy Rachel -she wasn't an idiot, obviously they had dress for snow, not looking hella cool.

Kurt was zipping up his own hideous snow coat, and sighed loudly, then said, "Brittany do you know what song you want us to sing?"

After their crying fit, they'd tried to sleep, but instead ended up talking about their plan of action for today. Eventually, after much arguing, it was decided that they'd dig a shallow hole that hopefully the zombies would be lured into by Brittany and Kurt singing a song -then Santana would simply put down as many as she could until they found the others, and after they were put down, they'd go back to the apartment -stopping to loot a few places on the way to hopefully get enough food they could not worry about that for a while.

It wasn't the best plan, but it was the best they could come up with.

"A rock song?" Brittany said zipping up her boots.

Kurt rolled his eyes, before he could answer, Santana snapped, "Figure it out later, we've got a hole to dig."

It took them a bit to get back to the sled, where the shovels and snowshoes waited, covered in a few inches of snow.

It took much longer to dig the shallow trench, fix up the stairs, prop the doors open, build a snow wall, and move the sled away to the back of the closest house.

"Alright," Santana nodded at them once all three were strapped into the snowshoes, "Fire your guns if they don't fall in or enough of them aren't coming."

"Be careful Santana," Brittany whispered softly.

Santana reached a gloved hand up, and gently caressed what bit of Brittany's face showed between her hat, hood, and scarf. "I will. You too -don't be afraid to shoot Kurt in the kneecap and run if you need to."

Kurt huffed, "That's not _funny_ Santana."

"Don't worry Kurt, I wouldn't do that." Brittany said serenely, "Blaine would be sad. You start singing first!" She shouted, then took off skipping…somehow, in the snowshoes, ignoring Kurt's protest that they hadn't decided _what_ to sing yet. Santana was pretty sure she'd fall over if she tried skipping in the snow shoes.

Rubbing her knee through the thick clothe covering her legs, she watched as the pair went away from the school. Once they were far enough away, she stood at the top of the snow stairs, and fired her gun to the side. It seemed to echo, and it was probably her imagination, but she was pretty sure she could hear faint growling already.

She scurried to go a bit behind the trench, where they'd made a crappy snow wall that would hopefully keep the zombies from seeing her, instead letting them go towards Brittany and Kurt, towards the trench, then Santana's bat.

_"He left no time to regret_

_Kept his dick wet_

_With his same old safe bet_

_Me and my head high_

_And my tears dry_

_Get on without my guy_

_You went back to what you knew_

_So far removed from all that we went through_

_And I tread a troubled track_

_My odds are stacked_

_I'll go back to black_

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to…" _

Kurt's voice came through loud and clear as he started singing once she was safely behind the snow wall.

A brief pause, then Brittany started singing,

_"I'm gonna fight 'em off_

_A seven nation army couldn't hold me back_

_They're gonna rip it off_

_Taking their time right behind my back_

_And I'm talkin' to myself at night_

_Because I can't forget_

_Back and forth through my mind_

_Behind a cigarette_

_And the message comin' from my eyes says, "Leave it alone.""_

Santana grinned. A mash up. Okay, sure that'll work. Mr. Schue had to be grinning down at them right now (there was no doubts in her mind he was in Heaven, he was a good if somewhat misguided dude.)

_"I love you much_

_It's not enough_

_You love blow and I love puff_

_And life is like a pipe_

_And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside"_

_"Don't wanna hear about it_

_Every single one's got a story to tell_

_Everyone knows about it_

_From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell_

_And if I catch it comin' back my way_

_I'm gonna serve it to you_

_And that ain't what you want to hear_

_But that's what I'll do_

Santana stood up straighter, and started paying more attention as first one by one, zombies came pouring out of the school, but it slowly evolved into twos and threes then finally, as the first zombie tumbled into the trench, she stepped out from the snow wall, and started smashing brains with her bat. A few she simply jabbed through the eye socket with one of the long bread knifes they'd take from the house.

She was doing her damnest to ignore the fact that she was getting covered in gore from the children she was putting down.

_And the feeling coming from my bones says, "Find a home.""_

_"We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to…_

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to..._

_Black, black, black, black, black, black, black,_

_I go back to..._

_I go back to…_

She still hadn't seen any of them. Just a lot of kids, and a few adults that were likely teachers, and exactly one lunch lady.

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to…"_

_"I'm going to Wichita_

_Far from this opera for evermore_

_I'm gonna work the straw_

_Make the sweat drip out of every pore_

_And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding_

_Right before the lord_

_All the words are gonna bleed from me_

_And I will think no more_

_And the stains comin' from my blood tell me, "Go back home.""_

The trench was getting full by now, but there was more zombies coming. A lot more.

_"We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to black"_

After the last lyrics, that Kurt and Brittany sang together, the pair rushed forward to her.

And they started firing their guns at the zombies coming towards them.

Santana was damn sure they didn't have enough bullets to kill all the zombies pouring towards them.

"I'm out!" Kurt yelled, dropping his gun in the snow and running starting to desperately jab his bread knife into the small forms.

Tears were streaming were falling from Brittany's eyes as she fired, before also dropping her gun and resorting to the knife.

This was a crappy idea, and they were going to die. How many kids did this school_ have_ anyway.

Santana fired her last bullet, wondering if she shouldn't have saved three, wishing she had time to reload, before she started swinging the bat with every ounce of strength she had left.

Maybe Brittany and Kurt could run for it if she distracted the zombies long enough.

She was about to suggest just that, before a rifle fired, dropping a zombie that had been about to take a bite out of Kurt's bare neck -his scarf was laying near Brittany's gun.

At the noise, a few of the zombies turned towards the figure standing on top of a tall pyramid shaped climbing structure, the only visible part of the school's playground. Santana had no idea just how tall it was, but considering how much snow there was, enough to go up to the apartment building's second floor windows, that pyramid must have been really freaking tall that there was a good fifteen feet from the top of the snow to the top of the pyramid where the small figure was balanced, firing her rifle.

Santana had never been happier to see Rachel Berry, especially as more and more zombies started heading towards her as she kept firing.

"Grab your guns, we're running for it," she shouted to Kurt and Brittany. She hoped Rachel somehow heard her, and had a plan, because Santana had no idea how they'd rescue her if she didn't.

Kurt stumbled as he grabbed his gun, and Brittany didn't even bother trying to get hers. Santana grabbed her own, the feeling of the cold metal leaking through her wet gloves as the trio took off running.

* * *

Quinn watched as the zombies poured out of the open cafeteria door -their plan, after a lot of arguing, was that Rachel would crawl through the window they'd dug the snow away from with the mugs, and fire her rifle to attract attention of the zombies.

Quinn would go inside, and open every door, including the front ones, and hope that'd draw them out of the building enough for Quinn to have enough time to get some food from the cafeteria.

A _lot_ of arguing.

But eventually, Rachel, with a hopefully not final kiss, had agreed to the plan, and taken her bag full of everything from Quinn's bag, as well as what they were taking from the nurses' office, and finally crawled out the window.

It still felt weird and wrong to openly kiss Rachel like that.

Quinn had been surprised to hear gun fire so soon as she had carefully opened the office door and stepped out into the hallway, and she realized it wasn't Rachel.

Three guns, it was probably Santana, Kurt, and Brittany. A flush of relief and happiness had gone through her at that realization -now it was just Tina and Sam to worry about.

She'd crept towards the cafeteria, getting lost and having to hide in a bathroom once, before finally hiding out in a classroom a few feet from the open cafeteria doors. She hadn't even realized someone had propped them open, but thank goodness they_ had. _

The gun fire stopped, and Quinn wondered if they were okay, before a single gun started shooting.

That was Rachel -at least she was okay for now.

When a zombie hadn't stumbled from the cafeteria doors in several minutes, Quinn carefully opened the door and crept towards it, risking turning her flashlight on when she was in the huge room.

The first thing she saw was a flashlight on the ground, covered in gore.

Sam's.

Swallowing heavily, wondering how she was going to tell Stevie his brother was dead, she made a beeline for the kitchen.

Rachel had insisted on vegetables, so that's where Quinn went to first -the huge cans of vegetables, before faltering -her backpack was only so big, she'd only be able to get so much in it.

There was a good sized kitchen cart in a corner, and she stared at it for the moment.

She had no idea how they'd get it home.

They'd figure something out.

She started packing things on it, dumping out a few boxes that she found to fill with food, and keep everything tidy.

Bags of flour, yeast. Apparently this school made their own bread instead of ordering it. She wrapped the clothe bags of flour in plastic wrap, hoping to protect them from the snow.

If she could just get the cart to the sled, they'd be fine.

She kept her ears open as she stacked things onto the cart.

Frowning, she stared at the large industrial trashcans. They all had wheels on one side. If she took the bag out, she could put food in them, and somehow get both the cart and the trashcan to the sled without getting dead.

She'd figure it out.

There was a walk in freezer a bit further back, and she wondered if anything in it would be good -she'd found canned meat, but even freezer burned meat would be fine. It just depended on how cold it was once the power went out. Maybe she could grab some, and if it smelled off they could give it to the dogs and Lord Tubbington?

She could see what was in there, anyway.

Shining her flashlight along the path -there was stuff all over the floor, she reached the door and pulled open the freezer, shinning her light in.

The first thing she saw was Sam and Tina huddled together under their clothing, "Quinn?"

"Sam? Tina? You're alive," she grinned at them, a warmth rushing through her.

"Barely. We barely made it back here. And the door only opens from the outside, so don't come in." Sam said, sitting up and shivering.

"I'm so glad you came in here..how?" Tina asked, "And is..._anyone?_"

"I think everyone's okay, it you two we were all worried about. I'm so glad you guys are…you know, _alive._" Quinn looked back the way she had came, and frowned, "But I don't hear Rachel shooting anymore, so you guys should get dressed and come help me gather food, I think we'll have to leave quickly."

Propping the door open, she set the flashlight down so all three them would have a little light.

In no time at all, the trio were going through the darkened halls of the school, Quinn wincing with each step as the kitchen cart Sam was pushing only made slightly less noise then the trashcans Quinn and Tina were pulling. All three of them wore heavy backpacks.

The plan was for Quinn to go back to the nurses office, where Rachel would hopefully be waiting with the sled at the window.

And she was. Along with Santana, Kurt, and Brittany.

There was no time for words, while Sam started blocking the door with the cot and desk again, Quinn and Tina started lifting things up to Santana, Kurt, and Brittany. Rachel stood guard.

"That's a fuck load of food," Santana muttered as her and Kurt hefted a 50 pound bag of flour onto the sled.

"It is quite a lot, yes, but we should still stop and gather more on the way home," Rachel stated as she clutched her rifle, "The more we have, the better. Next time we need it we may not be able to go out at all."

"Rachel's right, there's still backpacks to be filled." Quinn said, grunting as she hefted a gallon bottle of vegetable oil up to Brittany.

Sam was bracing himself against the door, "It's not going to be filled here, they're out there and they want in."

"We're almost done," Tina said quietly.

"Good," Sam muttered, starting to slide a few inches in.

Quinn started to breathe deeply.

Funny, she hadn't had a problem when it was just her and Rachel, but she was definitely starting to have an issue now.

Taking deep breaths, in and out, trying to focus and calm herself, she and Tina passed up their backpacks, then Sam's who had luckily taken his off before he went to deal with the door.

"Go up ahead of me, and start pulling the sled," Sam grunted out, "I'll make a run for it. I'm fast, I'll be fine."

"I don't like this idea," Santana snarled.

"Tough, do it anyway." Sam, "Preferably _now._"

Not wanting to waste time arguing, Quinn followed Tina up the window.

They were all walking -there was no way any of them were fitting on the sled now. It was heavy enough it needed most of them pulling it anyway, even if only three of them had snowshoes.

They started walking away.

Quinn was still taking deep breaths, in and out, trying to focus on anything but her rising panic -she was just about to call for Sam, when he burst through the window, shoving as much snow as he could to cover the hole, before taking off towards them, not going near as fast in the deep snow as anyone would have liked, so they stopped to let him catch up.

"You okay?" Santana asked when he did.

"I'm okay. Let's get away from here," Sam grabbed a bit of the rope they were using to pull the sled, and started walking, tugging a bit until the rest of the followed.

"Hopefully when we come back, they've wandered away," Kurt sighed dreamily.

"We're coming back?" Tina asked, shivering as she stepped particularly deep into the snow, requiring Sam and Brittany to help her out.

"There's still more food, so yeah, we will eventually," Quinn shrugged, her breathing now back to normal, now that they were all there and okay.

It had taken them around five hours to walk from the apartment building to the school, it became clear after an hour that it was going to take much much longer.

"Crap, let's take a break? Look," Santana pointed to several two story houses, and even on that was three, a few blocks or so away from their path, "Let's go loot and take a lunch break."

Before Quinn could answer, Rachel did, "Good idea." And there was several muttered agreements.

"Fine by me," Quinn shrugged. They were all cold and wet, so after the looting they could make a fire and try to warm up a bit.

* * *

Quinn hovered near the kitchen door, trying not to intrude on Sam and Rachel -they were discussing something, and while Quinn was dying of curiosity, she knew Rachel would tell her if she wanted to know.

It was a nice feeling.

She was still freaked out about the others knowing, but there was a certain peace she had now she didn't have last time.

It was probably because she realized Rachel was serious about this being her last chance, and that was super messed up of Quinn to take comfort and strength from that.

Santana, Brittany, and Tina were taking the three story house that was set apart by a block from the cluster of houses that included the one Quinn, Kurt, Sam and Rachel were in right now, they had the sled, but Santana hadn't even argued about the extra work it would take to carry everything to them, so intent she had been on looting the three story house.

Kurt came down the stairs, holding a large grey sheepskin rug triumphantly, "Look Quinn, real sheepskin! And there's a lot more I want to grab, I'll shove it in pillowcases and carry it Santa style over my overstuffed backpack if I have to, but I am not leaving any of this behind."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "If you can carry it too in addition to the important stuff, fine. But I get to grab what I want first if it's as good as you say."

Kurt frowned, then sighed painfully, saying "Okay," as if Quinn has asked for his kidney, before he hastily added, "But don't touch the…" he trailed off as Quinn started climbing the stairs to him, "do you hear motors?"

* * *

Santana pulled Brittany to her closely, kissing her hard. It hadn't taken them long to get what they wanted from the kitchen -it had been well stocked, and they'd dumped out boxes of stuff they'd found in the garage to put what wouldn't fit into their backpacks into. It was going to be a bitch to get it all to the sled, but it was so so worth it to find a crapload of stuff, then have some alone time with Brittany.

Tina had clearly read the writing on the wall, and had muttered she was going to see what books she could find upstairs before Santana had a chance to tell her to scram for a few minutes.

She had needed this, she had needed _Brittany._

And Brittany needed her too.

"That was nice, Santana. I love you," Brittany smiled at her, finally pulling away from their last lingering kiss, "But we really should get Tina and get back to the sled."

"I love you too, Brittany. I wish we had more time," Santana sighed, and started pulling her clothes back on.

"When we get back, I doubt anyone would object if we took our baths together," Brittany said mischievously.

"Last time we tried that, Tiffany wanted to take a bath with us," Santana grumbled.

"Yeah, but that had been fun hadn't it?" They'd crowded into the tub together, wearing their underwear, and using way too much bubble bath to create a mountain of bubbles. Tiffany had been utterly delighted, had insisted on them all remaining even after the water had moved from lukewarm, to icy cold.

"It was fun, just not the kind of fun I was expecting," Santana gave Brittany a sly grin.

"Can I come down now," Tina called quietly from the top of the stairs.

"Yeah, we're done, thanks for waiting," Brittany called back.

Tina had three books her arms, "I hope we can find some room for these," she set them on the counter, "With the four we have at the apartment, that's the complete set."

Santana cocked her head to the side, reading the titles, "Is that the rest of the Shadow Children series?" When Tina nodded, Santana grinned, "Hell yeah, Sarah's going to be thrilled we have them all now, she wanted to read the ones that came out this year, insisted I memorized the titles in case we get to a bookstore. Pretty sure she made Rachel memorize them too, just in case."

It took them several minutes to don their backpacks, and drag all the heavy tote boxes up the stairs to the huge window they'd entered the house through. Santana stuffed the books in her pants, because they didn't fit in any of the backpacks, and kept falling off the totes.

"This is going to take a while," Santana muttered, eyeing the distance between them, and where she knew the sled was, even if she couldn't see it from here.

"At least it's not snowing?" Tina offered. Which was true, the only snow so far today had been what was already on the ground or whatever.

Brittany cocked her head to the side, "That sounds like an engine."

"We should go back in the house and hide?" Santana said, already starting to pull one tote backwards towards the window

The noise grew louder.

"I think it's too late for that," Brittany said, pointing at the figures coming towards them.

At least it was the opposite side of where the others were, Santana thought as the snowmobiles parked.

She had her gun out and pointed at them by the time the first figures were stepping off.

"Look what we found," one figure said -a woman with red hair.

"You can take the totes, but we're keeping our backpacks," Santana said evenly. It'd be a pain in the ass to take back, and the really good stuff was in their bags anyway.

The woman put her hands on her hips, whatever she was about to say was stopped as the final snowmobile came up to them, but instead of stopping at a slight hill, went over it, flipping over and landing upside down.

A woman, wearing a yellow stocking cap and the things stacked neatly behind her in plastic totes flew everywhere.

"I hate this stupid thing Rhonda, I told you the breaks need work," she muttered from the pile of snow she was stuck in.

The red haired woman ignored her, and turned back to Santana, "We'll take everything, actually. And isn't this a great find."

"Fine, backpacks too," Santana said. She didn't want to have to kill anyone over stuff they didn't really need -the haul from the school and hopefully what the others found would be good enough.

The woman grinned, "Nope, everything."

And strong arms grabbed Santana.

Brittany and Tina yelped as they were grabbed too.

They must have dropped them off and had them sneak into the house through another window.

Next to her, Tina and Brittany went limp.

"Brittany!" Santana shouted as started struggling against the arms, someone else grabbing the gun from her hands and tossing it into the snow.

"Should we flip the snowmobile back," the shortest woman asked, as another helped the yellow stocking capped woman up.

"No, leave it and the stuff on it. The girls helpfully grabbed more than enough to make up for it," the redhead said.

Santana struggled against the arms that held her harder, gritting her teeth and desperately glancing at the gun, watching as Tina and Brittany's limp forms were carefully put on a sled pulled by one of the snowmobiles.

Along with all three of their backpacks, the totes, and their weapons. One of the women even carefully picked up Santana's gun, giving Santana a quick emotionless glance first.

"This one too?" The husky voice of one of the women that held her asked.

The redhead frowned, "Really Bethany? Obviously she's too…ethnic. Shoot her up and leave her for the shamblers, or the jumpers or the diggers if any are around, if the cold doesn't get to her first. Take that coat she's wearing, she's not going to need it and Erica needs a new snow coat."

Santana struggled harder as she felt a pinch hit her neck, she managed to shout out Brittany's name one last final time, before she was dropped to the ground as everything went black.

* * *

A/N: *Originally Tina was called this by Sue in season 5. I figure Santana would totally think of it on her own given the situation.

Songs sung are Back to Black by Amy Winehouse, and Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes. Don't own.

Ohhh…things are **happening.** The next couple of chapters are going to be interesting. And challenging -it's a pain in the butt to write in Brittany's POV well, I always end up editing it over and over.

So updates are now just "whenever I get them done." Which is what I'm pretty much doing anyway. Still no less than two updates a month though -I figured it was time to give up on Saturday updates, since I haven't managed to actually do so yet. Sigh.

I was very strongly considering doing NaNoWriMo this year, like I have the last few…but it would have basically used all my writing time for this story, and precious sleep time and I am very much unwilling to do either of those for obvious reasons.

So I settled for carving out 10-30 minutes a few times a week to work on stuff that just wasn't this story.

If you're curious, I'm working on:

*A season 1 AU Caryl Meth Walking Dead story.

*The sequel to this story -Dead Girls Don't Get Happy Endings. It's going to be amazing, I have many plans for it.

*A season 3 AU horror story that involves Quinn getting turned into a vampire (yes, she totally kills Shelby in that story too -then figures out taking care of a toddler is hard, especially when the toddler is freaked the hell out by you, and ends up eating Beth. That's just the rough rough draft version -I might change it, but maybe not).

*AU Faberry story that's from Rachel's POV trying to rescue Quinn from herself (Instead of being moderately wealthy, Quinn is poor, and Russell Fabray is 100 times harder on her and a not so functioning alcoholic. Her mom is a functioning alcoholic, who works a crappy job and is tired all the time. Quinn shares her bedroom with Frannie, who has a kid, and a dick boyfriend) Quinn's still head cheerleader, and HBIC and all that, but now there's a mask on that wasn't there before, in addition to her other issues. It'll be _dripping_ with angst.

*A superhero story. Less "they fight crime" X-Men or Avengers type of superheroes and more of a "they mess around and get into shenanigans and grow as people" Misfits type story. In fact, it'll be a slight crossover as Quinn, Rachel, and the rest will get their powers through a lightning storm during the summer in between the second and third seasons. Yes, Mack will be a character. And probably not killed off, hah. ;)

I have no idea when any of these stories will be posted -only a tentative "Summer? Maybe? Hopefully?" for the sequel to this story.

**As usual, signed reviews get a preview of the next chapter. :)**


	30. Forever Young

_Santana carefully cut into the peach pie -Brittany's absolute favorite, and put a huge slice on a plate, and handed it to Tiffany. _

_Tiffany frowned, and grinning, Santana added a huge glob of cool whip on top, making the blonde girl grin too, and start eating happily, her long blonde hair falling forward into the plate. Smiling at the sight, Brittany reached over, and tucked the hair behind her ears. _

_"Should I give the cat some pie?" Santana said lazily, twirling the pie spatula in her fingers as she nodded at Lord Tubbington who was snoozing in the sun on the grass next to their picnic blanket, _

_Brittany leaned back on her hands, putting her face up towards the sun, "Maybe after Quinn and the others get here and have some first. He shouldn't be eating people food when there's people who haven't had some yet. Especially pie. It's been a long time since we've all had something nice like that." _

_"Quinn and the others aren't coming," Santana said, then yawned loudly. _

_"What? Why?" Brittany was distressed at the thought of Quinn and the others missing their picnic, but that didn't stop her from keeping her eyes closed, and enjoying the sunlight. _

_Before Santana could answer, Tiffany started making an awful sound -like she'd been turned into a kitten, and someone was hurting her. _

_Brittany couldn't open her eyes. After seven seconds of futile attempts, the distressed noises stopped. _

_And Brittany could finally open her eyes again. _

_Her sister's lifeless body was lying on the blanket, eyes open, seemingly staring at Brittany with accusing eyes. Lord Tubbington was gone, vanished. _

_Brittany couldn't stop staring at the small body. Finally, she muttered, "Santana…?" Unable to believe Santana hadn't tried to help Tiffany._

_A low moan answered her. _

_She finally brought her eyes to Santana. _

_Still holding the pie spatula, grinning sickly, Santana's undead form reached towards Brittany. _

Brittany woke up, her head aching and her heart pounding. She looked around, sitting up and realizing she was in someplace with no light. To be double sure, she felt her head to check she wasn't wearing a blindfold.

She could hear breathing that wasn't hers.

She'd been awake for five hundred and forty seven second before the person in the dark with her woke up gasping.

"Tina?" She called out softly, hoping it with her friend, and not just wishful thinking making her imagine she wasn't alone in the dark.

"Brittany?" Tina said just as softly.

The women had taken all her clothes, except her socks and underwear, leaving an unfamiliar long scratchy wool nightgown on her.

Carefully, Brittany got onto her hands and knees, wincing at the icy cold that went through her as she touched the cold cement floor when the nightgown started bunch up.

She'd only crawled for thirty seven seconds before she found Tina, shivering on a lumpy mattress, a thick wool blanket identical feeling as the one Brittany had on her own lumpy mattress.

"Brittany what do you think is going to happen to us?"

"The others -Quinn, Santana…they'll find us." She didn't want to think about never seeing her sister, Santana, Quinn or the other's again. So she didn't.

Tina shook her head for two seconds, wisps of her hair gently caressing Brittany's face, before she realized what she was doing and said "No…Brittany how are they going to find us? We're on our own."

"Lord Tubbington can find me anywhere -And Santana…Sannie won't stop until she does. Plus their snow mobiles left tracks…"

"Tracks that are pr…probably covered up by now. It's been constantly snowing Brittany, it's too much to hope for that the snow stopped just so they others can rescue us. We're _alone._"

"Not alone -we've got each other. I'm really glad it's just not me down here, even if it's mean to be glad you were kidnapped too. It was really scary waking up alone."

"I'm glad I'm not alone down here either."

Silence for two hundred and nine seconds, then Tina suggested, "Did you have a mattress and blanket too?

"Yeah,"

"Let's put the mattresses on top of each other, and share?"

"Okay."

After some fumbling in the dark, they managed to curl up together on the mattresses stacked on top of each other, both blankets wrapped around them in silence. Brittany didn't want to think about Santana, or Tiffany, how scared she was -Santana had insisted they and Quinn have a Saw marathon last summer, and she was trying to not think about that…she didn't want to have to saw off her own ankle or gut Tina or anything like that -instead she went over and over in her head what she'd already trained the puppies to do -and what else there was for them to learn when she got back. Hopefully the others enforced what she'd trained them to do -she didn't expect anyone to train the puppies, just keeping up with what they already knew would be enough.

Three thousand, four hundred and twenty seconds after they curled up on the beds, her stomach growled loudly, interrupting her thoughts. Next to her, Tina fidgeted. "I'm hungry too," Tina whispered, pulling the covers off herself and standing up. "Maybe there's a way out of here, I'm going to see if there's a door or something,"

It took her three hundred and thirty seven seconds to come back to their nest, defeated, she said, "There's no doors or windows that I could feel, just a bucket in the corner."

"I'm taller then you, I'll maybe I can find something you missed?" Brittany suggested.

She was starting to get used to the dark, and it wasn't that scary when she crawled off their bed, and, hand on the wall, stood up and started feeling every square inch she could reach.

The room was ten feet by ten feet and the walls were taller then she could reach. They were taller then she could jump -and she could jump up pretty high, even when she stood on the flipped over bucket.

She reported her findings to Tina as she crawled into the nest next to her.

Tina made a choked up sound, curled up and started to cry.

Brittany joined her.

Thirty nine hours after Brittany first woke up, there was a heavy noise of metal scraping against metal, and blinding light poured into the room. Brittany had a second to see the walls were smooth cement, with a smooth cement floor -which she could tell from touching them, and that the door was twelve feet high up.

Brittany had tried to each Tina to act as a good base to try to toss Brittany up high in the air, but it didn't work so well with just one person, in the dark, and Tina wasn't exactly as strong as she needed to be. Plus Brittany didn't know how high the ceiling was, and she didn't really want to hit her head anyway.

So they spent most of their time talking.

Or crying.

Lately they hadn't even been crying -they were too thirsty to cry.

She blinked, then the light proved too bright for her eyes, now unused to anything but the dark, and she got a final glimpse of a hook on a rope being lowered before she had to close her eyes and cover them with a corner of the blanket.

When the light was gone, the door closed, Tina crawled carefully out of the nest, and exclaimed, "They took the bucket and replaced it with an empty one. And there's a tray with water and bread!"

Twenty four hours later, they realized they should have rationed the loaf of bread and pitcher of water more.

It'd be another twenty two hours before the heavy metal door opened again, taking the empty trey and full bucket, once more temporarily blinding them, and leaving an empty bucket and trey with a pitcher of water and another loaf of bread.

That time, they were careful to ration it out despite the thirst and hunger they both shared.

At least they were hydrated enough to cry again.

* * *

She woke up saying Brittany's name -her dream, whatever it had been, gone instantly from her mind, but the fuzzy remains of the fear and sadness it'd inspired still fresh inside her.

She sat up, and realized she was in her own bed -the door was open, and she could hear everyone talking, the fire crackling, Lord Tubbington meowing, a puppy whining.

Maybe it had been a dream.

Screw that, it _was_ a dream and Brittany wasn't gone.

It was a dream and Brittany was in there with everyone else. Tina too.

Ignoring the stiffness in her knee, the ache in her arm that reminded her that, at least, hadn't been a dream, she pulled the blankets off, and stepped onto the floor, wrapping a blanket around herself as she stood up.

She was thirsty. Really thirsty. She'd get some water, maybe some tea, after she saw with her own eyes that Brittany and Tina were here, safe, and it was just a stupid dream.

She stepped stiffly across the room, and stood in the doorway, the numerous candles set around the large room, along with the fire casting flickering shadows.

It was a_ dream._

One by one she looked at everyone, and when she didn't see Brittany or Tina, she told herself they were getting snow, or bringing more firewood up or checking on the chickens.

Rachel noticed her first, and made a noise that was a cross between a sigh, and as if she started but stopped herself from saying something.

One by one, Sam, Kurt, Blaine, Quinn and Terri looked at her.

She had been friends with Quinn for over four years now, and had gotten pretty good at reading her face, even when the formerly blonde girl was trying to keep it expressionless -like she was now.

Sadness.

Pity.

_Guilt._

She stared at Quinn's face, and whispered, "It wasn't a dream."

Biting her lip, Quinn said, "No." She stood up, putting Beth onto Rachel's lap.

"You couldn't follow the tracks and find them?" Santana spat.

Quinn stopped walking towards her, and looked down, then back up at her, "We tried, for hours. But it started snowing and we were running low on gas. We had to come back home."

"I bet none of that would have have stopped you if it'd been your lizard baby kidnapped." Santana couldn't look at Quinn anymore, she stomped to the fire, standing in front of it, trying to feel something besides the cold dread that was going through her.

"We needed to return home as well Santana -to bring our supplies back to the children. Had the snow not started falling again, we could have attempted to find them -a feat that would have been easier since we have the snow mobile now. What exactly happened?" Rachel said gently, "We found you in the snow, and a snowmobile upside down with several plastic boxes strewn around. Kurt and Sam were able to right it and ensured it worked, and we simply tied the sled to it, then rigged up a box spring behind that to hold us."

Not looking at any of them, drolly Santana recounted what had happened, finishing with, "Then the redhead said I was too ethnic, and had her goon needle me too. Tina's just as ethnic, so obviously she meant _brown_ and just didn't want to say it. Like you still have to be politically correct in the freaking zombie apocalypse when you're kidnapping people." She turned from the fire, and shoved one of the heavy blankets blocking the windows, "It stopped snowing. It'll be dark soon, but I'll take the snowmobile and go out and look around -at least I can get an idea of where they went, so we can look for signs of people. They have to have a fire going, so we can just look for smoke or something. It won't be hard at all, we can find them. Sarah got the books in my pants right?"

"She did, yeah. Santana…" Sam stood up from his spot on the couch, where he'd been reading to the children gathered around him, and wrapped an arm around her, "Santana, you've been asleep for almost two days. It…it snowed most of the time, it only just stopped."

"No, no," she gasped out, then dropped the blanket, "No you're wrong Sam. You're _wrong._" He stood and took it as she punched at him for a few moments, before swiftly picking up the blanket and wrapping it around her, pulling her into a hug. "She can't be gone. How can a person just be gone like that? I love her, she can't be gone. Oh, Dios, qué voy a hacer sin ella?" Unable to stop herself, she started sobbing, her face pressed against Sam.

When she finally pulled away from him, angrily wiping at her eyes and feeling everyone's eyes on her, she turned away from him, not wanting to look at the wet spot on his sweater or the sappy pity look on his face or the pitying looks she was getting from everyone, even freaking Beth it felt like.

Licking her dry lips with a tongue almost as dry, she realized Tiffany wasn't with them in the living room, "Where's Tiffany?"

"Sleeping on my bed. We gave her something to help her finally sleep, she hasn't gotten much the last couple of days, and when she did she kept having nightmares…" Quinn said, once again holding Beth and looking at Santana -but not meeting her eyes.

"It was quite difficult to explain to her that Brittany is not dead, but…" Rachel sighed, and handed Santana a glass of water she drank greedily.

"But you didn't know what the fuck happened to her or if we'll ever see her again?" Santana said once the water was gone.

"I would not quite put it so crudely, but yes." Rachel sighed again, and handing Santana another glass of water, along with a bottle of Gatorade, "Drink these as well."

"Thanks."

Then without another word to any of them, she went back to their room, set her drinks on Brittany's nightstand, then carefully picked Tiffany up from Quinn's bed and put her into their bed, tucking her stuffed unicorn in next to the small blonde girl.

She was crawling in next to the small girl when Lord Tubbington jumped up on the bed, and after staring at her for way too long, he made himself comfortable on Brittany's pillow.

* * *

She didn't really sleep most of the night.

She couldn't stop thinking about Brittany, about what could be happening to her right now.

For all Santana knew, Brittany and Tina were the secret ingredient in someone's meat loaf.

Or way worse -stuff that Brittany and Tina would have to live with -that one or both of could have a vivid reminder of in nine months.

What the hell do you do with a baby the mother doesn't want, and the rest of them couldn't justify taking care of because they had enough kids to handle, not to mention just the kids presence would be enough to trigger unwanted memories?

Santana was catholic, and she believed in God, even if she'd maintained since forever that God was a dick who cared about them as much as your average person cared about ants in an ant hill in their yard, and thus it was useless to pray to Him -He didn't give a crap.

It wasn't just the catholic roots, it was just personally, she wouldn't be able to stomach killing a baby if it was inside of her, didn't care what anyone else would do when given that choice, because it wasn't her body, -but a baby after it was born, dismissing it as an unwanted memory, a burden no one wanted to take on…that was a fucked up situation she hoped like hell wouldn't happen.

Brittany being Brittany would probably take care of the kid, would _love_ it, just because she was Brittany and Brittany a. freaking loved babies, and b. wouldn't blame a baby for what their dad had done. But then again, people cope with that sort of stuff differently so who knew what Brittany would do if she had a baby who's dad...

Or dad's. Depending on how many men -

Jesus Christ.

Ella encontrará a cualquier que las haya tocado, y los matará...despacio.

That was the thought that made her finally crawl out of bed, and after a quick stop in the bathroom, she went to the cupboard that housed half their medical supplies, and grabbed the one bottle of booze in the apartment Quinn had grudgingly let stay in their medical stuff because she'd seen how useful it was.

Santana made herself drink five shots, one right after another, so quick she barely gave herself time to wince at the taste, then downed another bottle of Gatorade before stumbling back to bed.

Her sleep was mercifully dreamless, and quick to come once she was back in bed.

She woke up with a heavy weight on her chest.

Lord Tubbington.

He stared at, unblinking until she shoved him off of her, and sat up. Next to her, she realized Tiffany was sobbing, curled up under the blankets.

"Tiffany," she said hoarsely, still groggy, as she pulled the blanket away and stared at the crying almost five year old.

"Santana," Tiffany mewled, snuggling closer to Santana, then resuming her crying.

Santana lay back down, curling up around the small blonde girl, rubbing her back, staring at the ceiling until, finally, Tiffany stopped crying and sat up, gasping for breaths.

Sniffling, Tiffany pulled Lord Tubbington onto her lap and said, "Santana?" again.

"Tiffany." Santana pulled her into a hug, the cat between them.

"Is Brittany with Mommy and Daddy?" Tiffany asked quietly, still a little breathless from her sobbing.

Santana swallowed hard, "I don't kn - _No._ No she's not."

If Brittany was dead, even if Santana was a million miles away, she'd _know._

She would.

She _would. _

"So why isn't she home? Does she not love us anymore?" Tiffany put her forehead against Lord Tubbington's, making her words muffled in his fur, "Are the monsters gonna get her?"

"Brittany kills the monsters, she the best at it," Santana said, a little hitch in her throat.

What the hell was she going to tell Tiffany.

The kid was going to be five soon.

And…Qué haría la abuela ? She'd be brutally honest. Santana would settle for honesty.

"I…I don't know when Brittany will come home, but as soon as she can, she will, okay? She wants you to be a strong, big girl who listens and eats her vegetables, and brushes her teeth really good and helps out with the littler kids. You're already a good kid, Tiffany, but now you have to be strong too. Alright?" Santana hoped her words weren't going to put Tiffany in therapy when she was older -assuming therapy was a thing again.

And she hoped they comforted Tiffany.

Sniffling a little, Tiffany nodded solemnly.

They sat in silence for a while, before in a quiet voice, Tiffany asked, "Are you going to take care of me Santana?"

Santana snorted, "Of course I am Tiffany. Brittany's my soul mate, that makes you my sister-in-law. Sister's by_ law._ We're _family._ Everyone's kinda family now, but you and me are like this," she crossed her middle and index fingers, and held them up to Tiffany,"But you'll have to take care of me too, okay?"

Tiffany hugged her, and Santana figured she must have managed to say the right thing. She managed a smile for Tiffany when they pulled apart, "Let's go brush our teeth and feed the cat? And," she exaggeratedly sniffed the air, "I'm pretty sure that's _bread_ baking."

A quick gathering of clothes, and Santana soon found herself following Tiffany into the bathroom in the living room (Quinn was in their bathroom with Beth and Abby) clutching their things. A quick glance at the kitchen and fireplace confirmed that Terri, Sam, and Kurt were muddling through bread baking.

As soon as the door was closed, Tiffany immediately starting shucking off every stitch of clothing, despite the chilly air, and heading for the toilet.

Santana busied herself brushing and braiding her hair, wondering if she should live with the headache that'd been steadily forming since she opened her eyes, or go find some aspirin eventually, and finally deciding to say something after Tiffany finished, and started pulling her day clothes on.

"Tiffany, what are you supposed to do if a monster gets into the house?" Santana asked as she sat down to pee.

"Find someone taller than me, and go outside with them and hide. If I can't find anyone, I get Churchill and Lord Tubbington," Tiffany replied after pausing from pulling her leggings on and thinking about it for a moment.

Santana finished up, then put the lid down on the toilet seat, and as she lifted the tank lid off, she asked, "What would you do if you were using the bathroom?"

"I'd put my clothes on_ then_ find someone taller than me." Tiffany said in a voice tone that clearly said Santana was dumb for asking such an obvious question.

Santana was almost proud of that tone.

Santana lifted the bucket with the mostly melted snow in it, and poured it into the tank, flushing the toilet when there was enough water.

She used half a cup's worth of hand sanitizer that was from the vet clinic -and thus Rachel had approved it for use instead of washing hands, reasoning it had to be higher grade and good enough to replace bathroom hand washing (she still insisted on proper hand washing when cooking) then said, "You've seen the monsters Tiffany. They're really scary aren't they?"

Tiffany nodded, a little confused.

Santana sighed, "Well they can be really fast, too. What if you don't have enough _time_ to pull any clothes_ on?_ Here, let's brush our teeth," she popped a little bit of toothpaste on both of the toothbrushes, then handing Tiffany her's.

She wondered if Brittany had a toothbrush, if she was able to brush her teeth.

If she had enough to eat -it didn't seem fair at all Tina and Brittany went out with them, risked themselves for the food they'd brought back, and hadn't had a bite of it yet.

If they were warm.

If they were alive.

She choked back a sob, and forced herself to finish brushing, over and over up and down and to the side, waiting for Tiffany to say she was done.

Tiffany spat, then said, "Done. Can I pour?" Once Santana nodded, Tiffany concentrated carefully as she poured the pitcher of water that was always in the bathroom into a mug, then poured that carefully over her toothbrush, then took a sip and handed the mug to Santana after she spat.

Once they both finished dressing, and Santana had their things bundled up, Tiffany led the way out the door back to the room.

The next time Santana went with her to the bathroom, Tiffany kept her socks on.

Santana, later that night over several generous shots of whiskey to once more help her sleep, chalked it up as a win.

* * *

Day two, Santana woke up before everyone else with a pounding headache -but the feeling of being a failure, of being unable to protect Brittany or do more then be snarky and left behind in the cold to die, had felt worst.

The fact that everyone was pitying her, and going about their daily routine as if horrible things likely weren't happening to Brittany and Tina right now sucked almost as bad.

Santana decided that a couple of shots of whiskey to help her during the day wouldn't hurt, it'd help her cope without snapping on someone.

The first nine days, Brittany and Tina are gone, the only solace she finds is in the bottom of a shot glass -it was the only way she got any sleep that was half way restful, and it helped her get through the day, trailing after Tiffany, helping out with Abby, trying to spend some time with Sarah or forcing herself to put in enough effort in her chores.

She barely spoke, really only making the effort to talk to Tiffany.

But even that went to the way side as, Tiffany, clearly not handling Brittany's absence that well and wanting attention or something, started throwing temper tantrums -full blown, screaming till her face was red while kicking and punching the floor, temper tantrums over the most stupid stuff…leading to them having less conversations, and more Santana telling Tiffany to go stand in the corner, or go to their room or just straight up saying, "Stop being a brat Tiffany Eleanor Pierce!"

Of course, she had before -she was a kid, kids did that kinda crap.

But now they were loud and violent and Santana didn't know how to make the kid feel better -she didn't think either of them would ever be better if Brittany never came back.

Brittany was out there somewhere, and there was nothing Santana could do about it.

Santana, fed up, had even ended up grounding Tiffany from Queenie, putting the unicorn plushy on top of the tallest bookcase where the unicorn seemed to stare at her every time she passed by it.

She knew everyone was worried about her -it was especially obvious when on day six, Rachel pulled out one of her sweaters she hadn't really been wearing, the most hideous one, paired with knee socks, the most plaid skirt ever, and a pair of white mary-janes she had most definitely not been wearing in forever, then very pointedly tried to get into Santana's sightline the entire day.

Practically begging for Santana to say something, _anything. _

Here it was, day nine, and the bottle of whiskey was almost gone. She'd been trying to figure out which apartment Quinn had hidden the various bottles of booze they'd collected (And no wonder, Santana was the exact reason why Quinn had put them somewhere else) instead of paying attention to the weekly meeting. Blah blah, don't know where to even start looking for Brittany and Tina -and weren't they _all_ worried and as upset about it as Santana and Tiffany, their supplies were great, and Kurt requested to not have dish duty anymore because of his nails. Such was his commitment to his nails that he was willing to do two chores in exchange for permanent not doing dishes.

"Given that it has not snowed in seven days, it has been warmer -above freezing according to both thermometers I have checked with, and the snow is melting, I would like to suggest that we go out on supply runs while the weather is good -we cannot have too much food or medicine, and of course there's other things we should have -like books. It's quite likely that other groups are out scavenging for supplies, so it's imperative we do so as well. Please make a list of your wants, your needs and give them to me by tomorrow night."

"We'll go out day after tomorrow -on the thirtieth." Quinn added, "Volunteer only."

Tiffany's birthday was on the first.

Brittany had been planning on making a cake if they had found the supplies to do so.

They had, so Santana would. And she'd add "kick ass presents for Tiffany" to her list.

"I volunteer," she muttered into her cup of hot chocolate -Rachel insisted they each had a mug during these meetings, to make them seem official or something stupid like that. Frowning, she looking up from the tiny hard marshmallow bobbing along in the drink she'd been staring at, "That was like ten feet of snow everywhere -it's gonna be flooded and muddy as hell if it's warming up. And the freaking zombies -they're still out there around the building."

Rachel beamed at her, "That is an excellent point! Kurt what do you suggest we do about the potential flooding and definite mud?"

As Kurt blathered on about kitty litter, and finding a raft or something in case of flooding -trying to drive through it would, according to him, "Be a worse idea every single one of Rachel's school outfits combined."

He said that with a glance at her, and sighed a little when she didn't rise to the bait.

"As to the zombies?" Rachel frowned, "We will have to do what we did at the cabin, and handle them."

"No guns, that'll just bring more of them," Sam said.

"Of course, which means we will have to be extremely careful."

The topic of conversation switched to the upcoming holidays -Rachel was insistent she and Sarah were going to hold a small Hanukkah ceremony that everyone was welcome to attend, and they needed to decide what they were going to do about Christmas.

Santana couldn't take it anymore. Maybe it was the whiskey she'd had just before the meeting, snuck during a rare moment when no one but the four youngest children were in the living room, but she grit her teeth, clinched her jaw, and stood up, "This is bullshit," she muttered as she stomped to their room, barely managing to stop herself from slamming the door just because, as satisfying as it'd feel, she didn't want one of the kids waking up, especially not one of the baby's.

How freaking dare they worry about crap like presents or Christmas or whatever, when Brittany and Tina were _gone._

Later that night, once everyone was sleeping, she finished off the bottle.

Then she sat alone at the kitchen table, and sobbed.

* * *

She didn't have anything to help her get through the day.

And Tiffany was being especially difficult.

Santana knew she took a lot of the blame -she was here, but it took a lot of effort for her to roll out of bed and half assedly do things, and, frankly, she didn't know how to help Tiffany beyond making sure the kid was clean, fed, and occupied.

Brittany would have known what to do.

"I want Queenie," Tiffany repeated, a bit louder this time.

Santana raised her eyebrows, "Have you gone three days without a temper tantrum? No? Then the unicorn stays up there," she growled.

Her patience was low today, and she was about ready to hold Beth hostage until Quinn told her where the rest of the booze was -she couldn't take the _looks_ anymore, and it was still morning.

"Santana, maybe-" Rachel started to say, but Santana cut her off with a "Butt_ out_ Berry," and a glare.

"I want Queenie!" Tiffany was even louder.

Her Abuela would have burned the stuffed animal in front of Santana if she'd acted like this. Santana settled for a fierce look, and said, "Another word, and I'll give her away."

"She's mine!" Tiffany stomped her foot.

"That's two words." Santana stood up, walked to the bookcase, and grabbed the unicorn stuffed animal, tossing it to Beth and Abby.

"Noooo," Tiffany howled, and tears streaming down her face she stalked to the two girls. "Mine!" She reached down and grabbed Queenie's horn, prompting Abby to frown and grab a leg.

Tiffany pulled, and there was a terrible ripping noise. Tiffany stared at the torn leg, then let out an unholy screech. Then she smacked Abby, leaving a tiny handprint on her temple that was immediately visible as the girl fell over.

Abby started crying, prompting Beth to start sobbing to. As Quinn and Rachel swooped down to comfort the two girls, (Quinn sending Tiffany and Santana both a nasty look), Santana stood there for a moment, just staring at the crying toddlers, one sobbing from pain, the other clearly for attention and confusion and at Tiffany who was still screeching, tears starting to stream down her face.

Gritting her teeth, she stepped forward, and scooped up Tiffany who started struggling fruitlessly as Santana went into their room, slamming the door behind her.

She sat down onto the bed, flipped the girl over her knees, and spanked Tiffany's bottom hard.

Tiffany was so shocked she stopped screeching. Santana swatted her again.

And again. Eight hard swats.

Her hand stung, pins and needles shooting through it painfully.

She let go of Tiffany, and she scuttled away from Santana, staring at her wide eyed, finally quiet except for tearful sobbing and whimpering noises as she stared at Santana.

Brittany's parents hadn't believed in spanking.

No one had _ever_ hit Tiffany before.

Santana's family were firm believers that sparing the rod spoiled the child -her Abuela had her Abuelo's leather belt she kept hung up in a hall closet, and she'd make you go get it when she was going to us it on you.

The feeling of dread as you made your way towards the closet was almost as bad as being spanked with it -it was humiliating, it hurt, and Abuela made you apologize to her afterwards, for making her have to hurt you.

It was screwed up.

Brittany would be pissed at her for spanking her sister, for the way Tiffany was looking at Santana right now.

_Brittany. _

Brittany was never coming back -she'd been deluding herself. If they could have come back by now, they would have.

And Santana wasn't some magical tracker that'd be able to find her, through the power of true love, even if the others would let her go look by herself, even if there were who knows how many zombies outside ready to eat her.

Brittany was _gone._

Tiffany was all alone in the world now -she just had Santana.

And Santana was crap.

Santana burst into tears.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out, "I'm so so sorry. No te deberia haber golpeado, perdoname. Seré mejor para ti, te lo juro."

Tiffany started crying harder, and after a moment's hesitation, threw herself at Santana. They hugged each other, and they sobbed together.

Eventually, they both ran out of tears.

Hiccuping slightly, Santana pulled away from Tiffany.

"I'll fix Queenie. I'm sorry about that too."

"It's okay, I was being a brat," Tiffany sniffled a bit, wiping at her eyes, her tiny kid voice trembling with the effort to convey her seriousness to Santana.

"You aren't a brat. You were _behaving_ like one, but you_ aren't_ one." She slung an arm around Tiffany, and leaned against her, "I'll teach you to sew, you can make Queenie a blanket or something. What kinda cake do you want for your birthday? Carrot with no frosting, right?" Santana forced a grin at the small blonde.

"Ewwww. I want," Tiffany scrunched her face up, and concentrated, "Lemon cake with chocolate frosting."

"With sprinkles?"

Tiffany nodded.

"Then sprinkles it is," Santana stood up, "Let's go get Queenie and find the sewing kit, we'll fix her right up okay?"

For Brittany, for Tiffany herself, Santana was going to step it up 100%. No more drinking, no more half assed doing stuff, no more asking herself what her grandmother would do -she'd do what she'd think _Brittany_ would do instead.

No more going through the day feeling like a ghost. A resentful, angry ghost.

Later, once Queenie's leg was firmly back on and Tiffany had learned how to thread a needle, Santana found herself staring at Tiffany's hair.

"When was the last time you brushed that?"

"I'm too little to brush it myself, you haven't brushed it in a while." Tiffany pouted.

Santana sighed, "Sorry kid. I'll be better, I swear."

"You already said that, so I know." Tiffany looked up from where she was putting Queenie under the covers on Brittany and Santana -_Santana's_ bed (because Queenie needed to rest, she'd told Santana very seriously.)

Santana was sure that as a kid she'd never had such trust in an adult -or whatever Santana was, even if she was technically an adult for the last couple of weeks. And she sure as hell wouldn't have forgiven anyone as quickly as Tiffany had forgiven her.

"Well lets go grab a brush and a hair tie then."

"Owww," Tiffany yowled a very unproductive thirty minutes later.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," Santana mumbled, trying to brush the long blonde hair gentler, "How the hell does it get so tangled," she muttered. It'd only been a couple of days since she'd last brushed it and put it in a braid for Tiffany.

Tiffany yowled in pain again, and Santana gave up, tossing the hair brush on the couch next to her.

"Perhaps I could attempt to brush it?" Rachel asked, then addressed Tiffany with a smile, "I have a tender scalp and am quite adept at taking out difficult tangles."

Tiffany furrowed her brow, "No thank you," she looked up at Santana, "I want short hair, it'd be easier right?"

"Uh, probably," Santana shoved a piece of hair that'd come loose from her own pony tail -also a couple of days old, and sorely needing a good brushing and a new hair tie, behind her ear, frowned down at Tiffany, "I mean, maybe? If you want to, we can cut it," she finally shrugged, and stood up, went off to search for some scissors.

After she found them and a comb, she came back to Tiffany, "Come on Tiff, into the kitchen so it'll be easier to clean up. If you're sure you want to cut your hair?"

In answer, Tiffany nodded and stood up, clutching the newly repaired Queenie, who's rest in bed hadn't lasted long, followed Santana into the kitchen.

Dragging a chair in, she motioned for Tiffany to sit, the pulled the hair tie from her own hair, and quickly pulled Tiffany's hip length hair into a pony tail.

"Are you reallly sure you want me to cut this? You haven't had it cut before have you?"

"I'm _sure_ Santana," Tiffany's trembling lower lip, and teary eyes said otherwise.

"Last time I'm going to ask, I promise. You don't have to cut your hair if you don't wanna, it's okay to keep it long. Mine is. Rachel's is. Sam's is going to be if he doesn't cut it soon. Sarah's too. Don't do this unless you want to -we'll take better care of it, it won't get this bad again."

"Cut it _please._"

Santana sighed, "Alright."

Forty five minutes later, Santana was sweeping up the piles of hair as Tiffany sat coloring with Abby. The blonde girl kept swishing her head back and forth and running her hands through her hair -it made Santana smile, even though she couldn't stop thinking about what Brittany would have thought about her sister getting her hair cut for the first time. Tiffany had tearfully apologized to Abby, and even given Abby her old Dora backpack, since it was bigger than the small pink one Abby had (Tiffany had no so quietly whispered to Sarah that she didn't even like Dora any more).

There'd been some tears, (especially when Santana had to even things out a bit and her hair ended up being slightly below chin length -shorter then she'd apparently been expecting), but Tiffany seemed fine now.

Sam held the dust pan for her -she'd called him over and asked him if he wanted a hair cut too, and he had -so had Stevie and Kyle once they saw Sam was getting a haircut. Sarah said she wanted to grow her's long, and no one else wanted one (Kurt had looked horrified at the thought of Santana cutting his hair -which had made her grin toothily at him.)

"How have you been?" Sam asked her quietly when they finished sweeping the hair.

Santana shrugged, "About as good as to be expected. You know, considering I'll probably never see Brittany again and something terrible is probably happening to her and Tina right now, if they're even still alive."

He leaned closer to her, and even quieter he said, "I went to get a band aid for Kyle, and noticed there was a bottle missing from the med kit…?"

Santana glared up at him, "I needed something to take the edge off, help me sleep."

To her relief, Sam nodded, and stepped back a little, "…with the snow gone, the zombies are going to be more active. None of us can be…impaired in anyway. Alright? The first sign you…drank something to take the edge off during the day, I'm going to have to tell the others. Drank or pills, whatever."

Santana rolled her eyes, "I'm not a pill popper," she hissed, tossing a quick glance at the various people gathered in the living room to make sure no one was paying attention to their quiet conversation.

"I'm not judging you Santana," Sam bravely leaned closer to her, "I think we've all thought at some point that an escape, even for just a few hours, would be nice. I'm just warning you, okay? You're my friend. If you need to talk, vent or even box or something, let me know. You'll just have to avoid hitting my face, okay? My nose has enough problems."

"At least the crookedness of your nose deflects attention from your fish lips."

He smiled at her, "You must be feeling…better."

She snorted, "If by better you mean that I've accepted everything is crap, including me, and I'm never going to see Brittany again? Sure."

Sam shook his head, and, after a moment's hesitation, slung an arm around her shoulders, pulled her into a hug.

"This sucks, and I'm sorry," he repeated what she'd said to him a few days after Stacy had died.

"Me too." she parroted his own words back at him.

There was nothing more to say, really.

* * *

There was a butt load of zombies outside the apartment building, meandering without a purpose.

Way too many for them to kill without guns.

And it definitely had to be today -they were almost out of water now, (Rachel had the foresight, when they realized the snow was melting, to round up everyone to gather extra in every container available) and needed a clear path to the river.

And of course, they wanted to be free to go look for supplies.

So here they stood, everyone except Terri who was with the kids, on the third floor peaking out the windows and discussing the best way to do things.

They'd agreed on a distraction, then killing a few zombies at a time until the amount was more or less easily manageable for them.

And of course there was the zombie disposal too. A giant fire would draw too much attention, and there was no way they'd be able to hand dig a giant hole. But that was a secondary problem -first they had to kill the zombies.

"I maintain -I can easily take my rifle, and -" Rachel started to say, but Quinn cut her off.

"No. It's too dangerous Rachel," Quinn gave Rachel a look she used to give Finn when he said something dumb, "_No one_ is doing that, we'll figure something else out."

Santana was next to the door, and as they all started arguing again, she fingered the knitted material of the bat holder Brittany had made her.

Double checking she had extra ammo in her pockets, just in case, she opened the door and slipped out.

This was probably really dumb of her, but she needed to do something. She couldn't go look for Brittany, she couldn't even make sure Tiffany had a nice birthday present and some freaking cake, but she _could_ do this.

Maybe it'd even help her sleep -last night, she'd manage to fall asleep only to wake up from an awful nightmare where Brittany had come back to them, somehow heavily pregnant, to get Tiffany because she was happy with her kidnapers and wanted to stay there.

She had been tempted to shake Quinn awake and demand to know where the rest of the alcohol was, then drinking herself silly to get that dream out of her mind.

She was not an alcoholic. She was a teenager trying to survive the apocalypse -she was allowed some booze.

But Sam's face, Tiffany's face, Brittany's face had kept flashing through her mind, and that, plus an stubbornness inherited from her mother kept her in bed.

And besides that constant ache she'd probably have for the rest of her life, for Brittany, however long that'd be, and being a little tired that the crappy instant coffee they had hadn't helped much, she was okay. Her knee wasn't even that stiff, and her arm didn't even hurt that much when she moved it.

So yeah. She was okay. Okay enough to do this, anyway. The others had been letting her slide, do only a few chores halfheartedly. It was time for her to contribute her fair share for once.

She jogged quickly down the stairs to the first floor, and went into the smokers apartment, navigating quickly to the bathroom -there, she opened the window, and looked down. A four, maybe five foot drop. She could do that.

Then running. A ton of running.

If she headed down the road, away from the clumps of houses and other apartment building, where there was a small church. She'd go in, ring the bell and then she'd be able to circle around. Hopefully she'd manage to get enough zombies away that the ones around their apartment building were a more manageable size.

She could do this.

She shoved the window open, thankful it was large enough she didn't even need to take off her bat, and after taking a deep breath, telling herself this was the right thing, because if someone didn't step up soon they'd die of thirst before anyone could come up with something better, she jumped.

The landing sent a jolt through her, and right away her knee protested.

She ran, yelling curse words as loud as she could in Spanish as she did so.

Dodging the bigger groups of zombies, she was down the road when she heard someone scream, "Santana!"

Guess the other's had seen her out the window. Or heard her.

Not even bothering to send a grin at them, too busy running, she kept running and yelling and dodging.

As twisted and weird as this was, she felt freaking great. 100% better, even with the new pain in her knee, then she had twenty minutes ago.

Huffing slightly, she finally stopped long enough to fling open the gate in front of the church.

As she stepped through, she turned around to look and see how many zombies she'd gotten to follow her.

It was a crap ton of zombies, the ones not on the road but in the dirt and yards around the road were covered in mud. Santana had ran through a few puddles herself, and her pants were soaked.

Enough to make her feel nervous. She hopped up the porch stairs, and quickly shoved the door to the church open with her good arm's shoulder, and stepped through.

It was easy enough, even in the dim light shining in through the windows, to see the sign pointing towards a door that said, "Bell Tower" on it.

And even easier to pull her gun out, and shoot the one zombie that groaned at her as she ran past it, slamming the stairway door behind her, her ears ringing with the loud noise.

Huffing and puffing even more she ran up the stairs, finally stopping and taking deep breaths when she was at the top.

A steady river of zombies flowed towards her, more then she'd noticed when she'd first looked.

The gunshot, obviously.

She was pretty sure she could get down from the tower -there was a roof below her, it wasn't any longer then the distance she'd already jumped, and from there she could jump down on top of a van that was parked close to the building.

Easy peasey.

Grasping the cord hanging from inside the bell, she tried to ring it.

The cord wouldn't budge.

Frowning, she stared at the sea of zombies, some of which had already stopped coming towards her, a couple even going back towards their building.

What the hell.

Taking a couple more deep breaths, she opened her mouth to sing. It'd worked before, why not.

And singing had always made her feel better.

_"May God bless and keep you always_

_May your wishes all come true_

_May you always do for others_

_And let others do for you_

_May you build a ladder to the stars_

_And climb on every rung"_

It seemed to be working. So hey, go singing instead of wasting bullets. How much ammo did they have left anyway?

_"May you stay forever young_

_Forever young, forever young_

_May you stay forever young._

_May you grow up to be righteous_

_May you grow up to be true_

_May you always know the truth_

_And see the lights surrounding you_

_May you always be courageous_

_Stand upright and be strong"_

As she sang, as loud as she could -and given she'd been a cheerleader, she was used to being loud when needed, and she thought of Tiffany, who looked so much like Brittany. It was going to hurt a bit, to watch her grow up and look more and more like Brittany as she got older.

_"May you stay forever young_

_Forever young, forever young_

_May you stay forever young._

_May your hands always be busy_

_May your feet always be swift_

_May you have a strong foundation_

_When the winds of changes shift_

_May your heart always be joyful_

_And may your song always be sung_

_May you stay forever young"_

And she _was_ going to watch Tiffany grow up -she wasn't going to die here, and she wasn't going to let anything happen to Tiffany. For Brittany, and for Tiffany herself. She'd muddle through things somehow -the others would help, and she'd do her best to raise Tiffany to be as sweet as Brittany had been…but tough. As tough as Santana liked to let everyone think she was. And strong, even if Santana didn't feel strong, wasn't sure how to help Tiffany be strong, they'd figure it out.

_"Forever young, forever young_

_May you stay forever young."_

When all this started, she hadn't been sure she'd be able to survive if anything happened to Brittany -but the other's needed her, _Tiffany_ needed her. That's what they were now. _Survivors._

Ignoring the tears dripping down her face, once she finished the last note, she gazed at the steady stream of zombies flowing towards the church.

Wiping the tears, she turned to figure out which opening to go through when she noticed the switch on the wall that had a small, hand printed sign that said, "Clapper release".

Really.

_Really._

She flicked it, and grabbed the cord hanging from the bell again -this time, it moved easily. She swung it, back and forth, hard.

The sound seemed to flow through her, loud and vibrating through herself.

She kept pulling it back and forth for several minutes, until, letting go, she checked on the zombie situation again.

Tons were inside the fence, and there had to be a bunch in the church now.

Time to leave.

When she got back to the apartment, limping slightly but otherwise just fine, she found what had to be a few dozen really dead zombies scattered around, and every single person, right down to freaking Blaine, pissed off at her.

"What, like any of you losers could have pulled that off," she grinned at them, then looked at Rachel's gore covered form, "Another sweater that needs to be burned. Maybe we'll loot an over grown toddler store so you can replace them."

"More likely," Rachel said scowling at Santana, "We will scavenge for supplies at more practical stores…then if there's time, the over grown toddler clothing store, " she added with a smile.

Quinn looked back and forth at Rachel and Santana, confused, before giving a small shrug and glaring hard at Santana, "Don't ever do something like that again."

"No promises." Santana shrugged, then headed towards the front door.

Quinn grabbed her wrist, "Seriously Santana. That was dangerous, and -Brittany's gone, I can't lose you too, okay?"

Santana jerked her wrist from Quinn's grasp. "Whatever."

Maybe, she thought as she headed up the many flight of stairs, she was being too hard on Quinn.

But maybe not.

They'd have to hash things out eventually, clear the air, whatever, but Quinn should come to her anyway.

* * *

Tiffany's meltdown the day before (she had heard the other's screaming for Santana and it'd freaked her the hell out) was nothing compared to when Santana left with the others the next day. A group that included Terri who despite only giving birth a few weeks ago was eager to get out there and try her hand at killing zombies -Blaine and Kurt had drawn the short straws for staying home.

Rachel had muttered that the woman had simply wanted to pick out baby things herself instead of relying on one of them to do so, and Santana figured that was probably it.

But hey, she'd killed exactly four zombies when they were out, and that was more then she'd ever done before.

And even Santana could admit the furniture set she'd picked out for Therese was pretty nice -and hella expensive.

If money was still a thing, anyway.

Santana had popped over to a fabric and crafts store while the others were helping Terri loot the baby store (they needed more formula, and other stuff anyway), and after lingering way too long in the yarn section feeling sad, she'd gotten enough fabric and quilting crap to teach Tiffany and Sarah (and even the boys if they seemed interested) how to sew some basic stuff, and to make a quilt. Or three.

She'd made one before, it'd taken her over a year because she'd been way way too busy with high school and cheer leading and stuff to sit and focus on it.

She figured she could probably have one done in a few months, a nice thick one for winter.

Then after that, a light one for summer.

Whatever, she liked sewing. And it was something to keep her hands and mind occupied, so bonus.

She'd have been embarrassed to admit it to anyone before, but there were walking dead people trying to eat you now, so liking to sew wasn't a big deal.

She kind wished her mom had had the foresight to grab the quilt Santana had made, but she had probably figured they'd come back to their own house at some point.

They'd also hit a toy store, and Santana had grabbed enough easy bake oven mixes to make Tiffany's requested birthday cake, along with a couple of presents for Tiffany that didn't make a ton of noise, or require batteries.

That hadn't been easy, actually.

Rachel, ever practical and planning, had also ensured they had enough toys and stuff for Christmas for the kids so they wouldn't have to come back to the toy store any time soon.

She'd seemed especially horrified after they had to take out half a dozen zombie kids that'd been in the woman's bathroom of the toy store.

Santana didn't blame her.

It'd been…interesting, trying to drive around town. A couple of roads were too flooded, and they'd had to go a different way which had added time.

And there was so much mud. It seemed like every zombie they saw outside was just covered in mud.

At least it'd made it easier for them to head into the park, and Sam, Blaine and Kurt had dug a hole for Christopher.

They'd had a funeral.

Quinn had sang.

It was as nice as a funeral for a toddler could be.

Another ten days passed.

Getting water from the river was a bitch. They did it in pairs -one person pushing a shopping cart filled with buckets, the other carrying a bucket and two weapons.

It was nearly a mile from their building to the river.

They'd decided as a group that bathing, and laundry, instead of being once a week each, was twice a month for bathing, and every 9 days for laundry from the sheer effort it took to gather enough water now that the snow was gone.

And then the time, and wood, it took to _boil_ all that water.

And of course, the zombies were a shit load more active now that the snow was gone, making it extra dangerous.

It'd been tense when they'd loaded up the zombies they'd killed in the back of Puck's truck, and dumped them a mile or so away -mostly because it'd taken ages.

Privately, Santana kinda wished it'd snow again -she doubted she was the only one.

"Is this it?" She asked, looking down at the list Quinn had given her, that basically boiled down to "stuff for the animals"

"If there is time, and room, please gather things for a garden, but yes, that is it," Rachel was the one who answered from a corner of the room where her and Terri were doing yoga.

"Inappropriate joke here," Santana said, giving Rachel a look.

Rachel huffed, "Santana, you cannot just say that. We very explicitly agreed that you are only allowed one per week, and you have already used your weekly allotment."

"Nope, today's Sunday, right?" Rachel grudgingly nodded, "Then that means it's a new week."

"When you return, we will discuss it." Rachel huffed again, then started correcting a frustrated, and slightly pained looking Terri's pose.

Smirking to herself, she followed Blaine down the stairs, yelling at Kurt to hurry up as she closed the door behind her.

They figured out, for short quick trips, three people was the sweet spot.

And it helped Tiffany to have Quinn home if Santana was out.

Santana figured she wasn't nearly as much comfort to Beth, but whatever.

She tapped her fingers on the dash anxiously as Blaine took his time going over the map for the eighty third time. Kurt was taking forever to join them in the car anyway, but still.

It was annoying.

She was about to say something, when Kurt popped up from out of nowhere, and said, "Santana, I called front."

"Then you should have got here first instead of taking the time to match your scarf to your boots or whatever," she rolled her eyes at him, then at Blaine too for good measure.

Kurt just sighed, but didn't argue or make a bitchy comment, instead just opened the back door and hopped in.

He didn't even slam the door when he closed it.

Pitying her, obviously. She assumed, anyway. Kurt wasn't nearly as sassy with her (he certainly was with everyone else) and she figured it was because he and Blaine, out of everyone, sympathized the most with what had happened.

Eventually she'd get him to make a snarky comment at her again.

She sighed, then mumbled as Blaine finally started the vehicle, "You can have the front on the way back, okay?"

The boys talked about the bus -apparently there was _some_ progress on it, it wasn't just an excuse for them to get some time alone after all, as they drove to the farm supplies and feed store Rachel was hopeful they'd be able to get things for all the animals at.

Santana wasn't sure where they'd put a garden, or how'd they water it.

A small part of her whispered that Rachel wasn't planning on being in the apartment building -they weren't supposed to be here, they _had_ been heading to _Wyoming._

Santana had accepted Brittany wasn't coming back. That something awful and terrible had happened to her, and Santana wasn't going to see either of them again.

Mostly.

But the thought of leaving the only place Brittany and Tina knew where to find them made her want to burst into tears and break stuff.

When Blaine parked the SUV in the small parking lot, empty of any other vehicles, she had her seat belt off and the door opened before he had the car stopped.

She needed to kill some zombies.

It was great stress relief.

Once both the boys were ready and standing next to her, she knocked on the store's door. Then again.

After a couple of minutes, Blaine tried the door. It was unlocked, so Kurt shoved Rachel's crowbar into the duffel bag he was carrying as Santana opened the door, and Blaine entered first.

The feed store was small enough they could see right away there was no zombies in the front of the store.

And it didn't seem to be looted too much either. Thank God.

Blaine tossed Kurt the car keys, and as he went to go park the SUV directly in front of the door, Santana and Blaine started stacking sacks of chicken feed and scratch in front of the door.

The feed store smelled like rotted meat, and Santana was pretty sure the sludge in the cages had been baby chicks at one point.

What a waste.

Once Kurt came back, Santana and Blaine switched to carrying the in the back of the SUV while Kurt started stacking up the cat and dog foods, and crappy looking kitty litter she was pretty sure Lord Tubbington wasn't going to like, or at least he wasn't used to.

Good thing cleaning his litter box was one of Tiffany's chores she'd insisted on having because she was "a big girl too and big girls had chores."

Somehow, they got every bag of chicken feed, scratch, dog food, cat food, and almost all the kitty litter bags into the SUV.

Santana was going to be riding home sitting on cat food, a fact that Kurt had actually smirked at her about.

It gave her an annoying warm feeling that he was starting to treat her a bit normally.

Kurt looked at the SUV, then at Blaine and Santana, "Should we even bother checking the back?"

Santana said, "Might be a good idea, just in case there's more stuff we want to get later. Could probably come back after we unload and get more dog food or whatever if there's some in the back."

"The sign said they had hay -I think we could get a bail or three for the chickens, help keep them warm and maybe relax them a bit?" Blaine suggested, seeing Santana's look he added, "There's rope, we can tie them to the roof."

The chickens had to make do with whatever crappy blankets and towels they scrounged up. Frankly it was pretty gross, hay would certainly be an upgrade.

"Sounds good to me," Santana shrugged.

"Alright. If we're maybe coming back, we should hurry," Kurt lead them towards the door marked 'Employees Only'. He knocked, and when they couldn't hear anything after a moment, he shoved it open with his hip and stepping forward into the room. He turned towards Blaine and Santana, with a grin, to say something, "I -" Then he started screaming.

Blaine made a horrible, distressed noise as he wrapped his arms around Kurt, pulling him back into the room.

The was a tiny, toddler size zombie biting Kurt's leg, obviously gotten through his trousers. If it was still snowing and freezing out, he would have been wearing a billion layers instead of pants.

Stunned, Santana had her baseball bat out and was hitting the tiny form, trying to get it to let go of Kurt as Blaine kept telling Kurt he would be okay, over and over.

Finally, the zombie stilled, and goodness knew she'd hit it enough.

Santana shoved it away from them with the tip of her baseball bat, and turned towards Kurt and Blaine.

Blaine was sitting on the ground, Kurt's head on his lap, tears streaming down his face.

Already Kurt's fair skin was starting to redden. If she could bring herself to look at his leg, she knew the black goop would be festering.

"Blaine, " Kurt whispered, "I'm not okay."

"No, no, we'll get you home, and-"

"No."

"Kurt..." tears were falling down Blaine's face faster now.

"I love you Blaine Devon Anderson. Be strong, okay? Be happy, even if it's with someone else...if you can. Don't let this break you." Kurt wheezed out.

The black goop was starting to form in his eyes.

"I hope I'm wrong," he whispered, "I hope I see my dad again. My mom. Carole. And you, one day when you're old Blaine. But I think I'll be okay if there's nothingness, too. It's a little scary, but..." he trailed off, then took a painful intake of breath, then slowly turned to look at Santana, "but it'd be less scary instead of turning into a zombie. Santana, I don't want too...can you...please don't make him...?"

Wordlessly, tears now streaming down her own face, she nodded and pulled out her gun.

"Thannks...You ne..ed to stand...up...Blaine...and don't...do...n't wat...h," Kurt wheezed out, raspy and with effort.

"Be _st...rrrrong..."_ Kurt whispered as Blaine stood up, pulling off his jacket and bundling it under Kurt's head, sobbing, telling Kurt he loved him over and over when he could find the words in between gasping for air as he cried.

"Hu...rrry..."

Santana grabbed Blaine's hand with her free hand, and pulled him behind her. Then she pointed the gun, and closed her eyes.

She fired.

The noise seemed to echo around and through them both.

She covered Kurt's body with a tarp, ripping the bag open noisily, but not noisily enough to cover up the noise of another zombie behind the door -probably the zombie toddler's zombie mother or something

She ignored it, and once she was done covering Kurt's body, doing her best not to look at it, she grabbed Blaine's hand, this time pulling him outside to the SUV. She opened the passenger door, and when Blaine made zero effort to get inside, she gave him a gentle push, which prompted him to get in, where he proceeded to wrap his arms around himself and cry harder. She shrugged off her leather coat and bat strap, briefly touching the spot Kurt had expertly fixed the bullet hole on her coat -you could barely tell it was there, before putting it awkwardly around Blaine's shoulders. It wasn't much, but it was something. Hefting her bat, strap and all, and making sure she'd remembered to pick up her gun -she had, even if she hadn't remembered doing so, she jogged around the SUV to the driver's side.

Kurt had left the keys in the SUV, and never before had she been so thankful.

She didn't think she could have stomached searching him for the car keys.

* * *

**A/N: RIP Kurt.** I hope none of you thought I was done killing people off -this is a _zombie_ story. I actually dropped some foreshadowing about Kurt's fate in Chapter 26. Poor Kurt.

Poor Blaine. Poor Santana. Poor Brittany. Poor Tina. Poor_ everyone._

Just to be clear- Santana spanked Tiffany's butt, she didn't hit her any where else. Brittany's family didn't spank -Santana's did. It helped Santana realize some harsh truths about herself, and start being better, which is why it was included.

**Oh, Dios , qué voy a hacer sin ella?:** Oh god what am I going to do without her?

**Ella cazar a cualquier persona que tocó a ninguno de ellos ,y los matará. Despacio.:** She would hunt down anyone who touched either of them, and kill them. Slowly.

**Qué haría la abuela ?:** What would grandma do?

**No debería haber golpearte , lo siento . Voy a ser mejor para ti , te lo juro:** I shouldn't have hit you, I'm sorry. I'll be better for you, I swear.

I just wrote the last 1000 words of this story! It's just a rough rough draft, of course, and there's still a while to go before we're there, but I'm excited! Woo.

As always, **signed reviews get a preview of the next chapter.** **A **_**Faberry**_** preview.** I dropped some hints on how that's going for them in this chapter, but since it was almost entirely in Santana's POV, we didn't see much at all.


	31. All Around Me

Rachel had a bad feeling in her gut -everyone scoffed at her anytime she mentioned she was a bit psychic -even Quinn, despite their slowly blossoming relationship, and she'd readily admit that in high school, mostly if she told anyone, it was for attention.

But she _was_ a bit psychic -at the very _least,_ she had a highly tuned intuition. When it worked, anyway. Most of the time, especially lately, it did _not._ So that is why she did not attribute the unsettled feeling she had the entire day to her psychicness.

When a pale Santana stumbled through the apartment door, dragging Blaine behind her, dropping his hand and her gore covered baseball bad, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the floor, staring at Blaine, Rachel did not stumble as she finished reading the sentence from the book she was reading to Abby and Tiffany. Even as Tiffany started tearing up, causing Abby to do so as well.

"Kurt's dead." Santana finally muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear. Blaine made a sad noise, his tear stained eyes staring at nothing as he wrapped his arms around himself and sunk to the floor, right where he was.

"I'm sorry Blaine," Sam spoke up, his own eyes wet with unshed tears.

Sam's easy forgiveness, assurances, and own guilt -a guilt Santana felt as well, had gone a long way to easing her mind. She was now putting the energy that, had things gone differently, would have been expended on going to Broadway, onto ensuring things were as organized as possible, that everything went smoothly, and keeping track of their supplies.

Quinn felt guilt, as well -but Quinn felt responsible for them all, and no doubted she would take Kurt's death upon her shoulders despite not being present.

Kurt's death went against the steady rhythm they'd developed. It'd hurt-not as much as Brittany and Tina's disappearance still did because as horrible as it was to think, at least they knew what had become of Kurt. They did not know if Tina and Brittany were alive, nor if something horrible was happening to them.

They would simply have to live with never knowing.

They had tried -as it started snowing, they'd tried to follow the tracks before they had been covered up, but it grew colder and Kurt pointed out they were low on gas, plus there was the matter of the hundreds of pounds of supplies that needed to get back.

The heavy silence -not even the toddlers made any noise, was broken when Theresa started crying. As Terri set down the bread dough she'd been frowning over, and rushed towards her room to care for the baby.

No one needed to ask_ how_ Kurt had died.

"We will continue reading at another time," she said to Abby and Beth, putting the book down and standing up, "At the feed store?"

Mutely, Santana nodded.

"Very well then," she turned to Sam, who had been coloring with the other children at the big kitchen table they'd found to replace the several small one's they had been using, and Terri who a moment ago had been frowning over a loaf of bread that did not look like it had enough time to rise before it was baked, "Sam, Terri, please go out to the park and dig a grave. Next to Christopher's. Quinn and I will be back shortly with Kurt's body."

She turned back to Santana, "I presume he is…not…?"

Once more, Santana nodded. Quinn silently stood up, and grabbed a pair of car keys hanging, then started pulling on her coat and boots.

"Very well. Santana, the children are in your care. Theresa and Dahlia are napping."

Quinn waited, blank faced, while Rachel gathered her own things and pulled on her boots.

It was understood that, whenever possible, they would bury their dead.

She and Kurt had a complicated frenemy relationship in high school, but even without the tentative friendship they'd been forming during all this Rachel would still feel this hollow sadness at his death -the only thing over shadowing it was pity for Blaine.

* * *

"It's not your fault," Rachel said softly as Quinn started Puck's truck.

Quinn snorted. "It's nice to think so, isn't it?" she said dryly.

"Turn left here. And it is _not_ -everyone knows what we risk leaving the building -and that we have to do so if we wish to survive."

"I shouldn't have stayed home -if I'd been there, leading them, then-"

"_No._ We have agreed that everyone goes out fairly, in equal amounts, and that three people are the prime amount for a group, especially with the zombies being much more active now. I am simply not going to allow you to blame yourself for this or anything else that happens when we are scavenging, Quinn."

Quinn scowled, "Tell that to Santana. She obviously blames me for Brittany and Tina -she's said maybe twenty words to me personally."

"Perhaps if you, in a few days, pulled her away to talk, have a long heart to heart with her?"

Quinn shrugged.

Worrying at her lip, Rachel sighed but decided to let the matter drop for now.

* * *

On the second floor, huddled in one of the apartment buildings with a couple of candles, Santana worked on her quilt.

She was only getting maybe half the sleep she should be a night.

So finally she figured, if she was going to be awake anyway, she'd be doing something useful. It beat trying to lay there, trying not to think about whatever horrible nightmare she'd had about Brittany, while at the same time trying to fall asleep to a good dream.

The cold was a penance -a punishment. She didn't even have to peak out of the window to know when it was morning and time to go upstairs so Tiffany wouldn't freak out because she wasn't there -she knew when her fingers had grown numb that it was hard to control the needle, she barely felt when she poked herself -which was often, when she was shivering so hard.

She wished it would snow again -then it'd be even colder down on the second floor, away from the heat of the fire and the people in the apartment.

It wasn't like she was cutting herself or something. It was just cold, and if it made her feel better about not being able to save her family, Brittany, even Kurt -well, whatever. If anyone noticed, they'd just tell her to bring a blanket, some gloves, and maybe a cup of hot water.

She was standing in the shadows next to the front door, trying to figure out where her quilting sheers had gone, when Blaine slid shoved the makeshift door to their -his, make shift room, and stumbled through, wearing one of Kurt's ridiculously oversized sweaters.

It had been almost two days since Kurt had died -since she had put him down. She wasn't sure how she would feel killing a person, but so far she hadn't felt much besides guilt for letting him go first, for not paying attention. Probably because Kurt had asked her to kill him.

She watched as Blaine slowly made his way to the kitchen, and as he was reaching for the cupboard door she realized what he was doing.

He pulled out the new bottle of booze, and gently shut the cupboard door.

She sure as hell wasn't the person to tell anyone they shouldn't cope with alcohol. Kurt had been dead for barely two days -if Blaine needed something to take the edge of living, well, she wasn't going to stop him. If it continued past a certain point -then she'd say something. Or someone will, anyway. It wasn't like he had to worry about taking care of his sister or any of their daily chores -it had gone unspoken that everyone would pick up his slack and take care of Dahlia for a while.

She was in their room right now, actually -Santana had noticed the baby was awake and about to start crying when she'd gotten up, and had quickly changed her diaper and held her until she was sleeping again. No sense in anyone else missing their sleep -even if Quinn looked like she was going to wake up pretty soon herself.

Babies were easy peezy _-way_ easier than five year olds.

She stopped paying attention to Blaine as he meandered back to his room, and was trying to remember if she'd left the quilting sheers in their room, or someone had taken off with them, despite her telling everyone, even _Beth,_ that they were for fabric only -when he tripped over a toy.

He only stumbled a bit, but it was enough for a bottle to fall out of one of the stupidly huge pockets on his sweater, and land on the carpet, little white pills spilling everywhere.

He fell to his knees, and more pill bottles fell out of his sweater.

He stared stupidly at them, before looking nervously at the half open doors of everyone's bedrooms, then he started frantically grabbing the pills in handfuls and shoving them into his pockets, before opening the booze bottle, and taking a long pull off it, making a face at the taste.

She watched him pick up another handful of pills and stare at them.

It took her a split second to realize what he was doing as he brought them to his mouth, tears streaming down his face, and she darted towards him.

She hit him hard, tackling him the rest of the way to the ground, the bottle and pills both spilling out of his hands.

She sat up, grabbed Blaine's hand, and stood up, pulling him through the living room and out the door. They stood, the candle Santana still held in her other hand sending flickering shadows in the small landing before the stairs.

"I know how you feel Blaine Anderson," Santana whispered, clutching his hand tightly, staring at the candle flame, "That feeling like nothing's going to be better ever again, that there's no point to anything anymore, that no one cares what you're going through. I get it. And it sucks."

"I don't know how I'm going to survive without him," Blaine whispered. She let go of his hand, and he leaned against the wall, and slowly slide down until he was sitting on the floor staring down the dark stairs.

She joined him.

"You'll wake up every morning, do what you have to do for the day, then go to bed. You'll dream about him -sometimes it'll be good dreams, but mostly? Nightmares. For a while. But you'll survive. Being alive is always better than being dead. Always."

"How long?" His voice was hoarse.

"As soon as the nightmares stop, I'll tell you."

They sat there, shivering together silently in the cold, the candle flickering, until the tendrils of light peaked through the top of the one curtained off window. "Come on," she stood up, and held out her hand to him, "Let's go clean up in there before Terri or whoever sees all that. Can't believe you raided the meds Blaine."

He shook as head as he took her hand, "I didn't. That was all pills from the Anderson family medicine cabinet. I added the useful items to our medical supplies, but the rest of it was just…." he trailed off "Not useful."

"But it'd get the job done."

"All of it, plus the alcohol, yes," he said miserably.

"So what do you want to do with it?"

"I suppose flushing it is out of the question…next time you are on a suppy run, could you leave them somewhere?" he said softly.

"Yeah, that's not a problem at all Blaine."

"Thank you."

"You feel better now?"

"Yes, I think I do…just having someone who understands helps tremendously."

"Hell, I think I feel a little better too." Santana whispered as she opened the door, and ushered Blaine in.

They had the pills cleaned up, and the whiskey back in the cabinet before anyone else was awake.

* * *

Beth and Abby both were huddled against her, napping, so she didn't even bother to try to get up when Rachel came into the room, simply putting down her book and accepted the sleeping Dahlia from Rachel's arms. She watched silently as Rachel crawled into bed with them, curling up around Beth protectively. Rachel tentatively reaching up to stroke Quinn's healing scar with a frown, "I think we will have to take the stitches out soon Quinn."

Quinn shrugged. She hadn't wanted to think about her scar, or how it was healing. As if reading her mind, Rachel whispered, with a guilty look at Quinn then the half open door, "You will still be amazingly beautiful Quinn."

Quinn snorted, "Apocalypse chic. How's Blaine?" she asked, mindful of the sleeping children.

One more person who had looked -even if it was grudgingly, at her for leadership was dead. It ate away at her insides.

Rachel sighed, "Not well. He is not eating much, still not sleeping. Santana has spoken to him, and I think it has helped somewhat."

Guilt churned through her, "Because they both lost the people they loved?"

She didn't want to think about what could be happening to Brittany and Tina, what had happened to them -there were worst things then death, and all she could do now was hope they had died quickly and painlessly instead of something worse.

"Yes. Do I need to reiterate that it is not your fault again?" Rachel asked pointedly.

Quinn allowed herself a small smile, "No."

"Good." Rachel sat up, and leaned over the children, mindful of Dahlia, kissed her.

It was nice.

Every time they kissed, time seemed to stand still, the world was right, and anything that wasn't just the two of them seemed to melt away.

Quinn reluctantly pulled away, her eyes darting towards the door.

And Rachel sighed softly, but mercifully didn't say anything.

When Santana came into the room a minute later, Quinn couldn't help it -she shot Rachel a pointed look.

"It's been a week," Santana said, plopping onto the bed next to Rachel, "We should go out there again."

Rachel nodded, "I do believe it would be beneficial if we went to a bookstore."

"And we're out of coffee." Santana added. The pair of them looked at her.

"You just want to kill zombies." Quinn said, raising an eyebrow. She remembered during the drive to the cabin, how worried Santana had been about what she'd do without Brittany. So far, she seemed to be doing okay. Not that Santana was talking to her about it or anything.

"Stress relief. Next time there's some around the building I'm taking Blaine out with me, might help him." Santana shrugged, and started playing with some of Beth's hair that was sticking out of her pony tails, then looked at Rachel, "Tiffany wants to do the candle thing with you and Sarah," she snorted quietly, "I think she's mixing up Santa and God. I tried telling her God was a dick and wouldn't give presents, but that just made her cry because she thought I was telling her Santa wasn't giving presents this year."

"As I said -any of you are more than welcome to join us on the twentieth for the first day of Hanukkah. Technically, it is against the, well, _rules_ for non Jews to participate, but…if you like, I can attempt to speak to Tiffany about it and the history of St. Nicholas. I assume Brittany's family were Christians?" Rachel smiled kindly at Santana, and a wave of a very strong feeling she wasn't ready to call love went through Quinn. How Rachel could smile at Santana -or hell, be _with_ Quinn, after all the crap they'd put her through in high school Quinn had no idea. Even with the zombie apocalypse to put things in perspective, Quinn very much doubted she'd be so forgiving to her Junior High tormentors -Lucy _might_ have, but Quinn had stopped being her a long long time ago.

Santana nodded, "I'm pretty sure her parents were Baptists. Brittany was…Brittany," she sighed.

There was a pregnant pause in the conversation, and Quinn found herself reaching to her neck to fiddle with a cross necklace that wasn't there.

She'd been a good catholic girl, a devote believer in God, and living in fear she'd damn herself to Hell. She hadn't even been willing to touch birth control pills to help her raging acne when she'd been Lucy and certainly not when she'd transitioned to high school (which was how she'd gotten pregnant -Puck had used a condom, but it'd ripped). Now, she wasn't sure there was a God, -and if there was a hell, they were already in it. Which wasn't fair to all the children and babies, but God was never about fairness. Her God, her_ family's_ God, had been the hell and brimstone God -when you prayed to Him, it was for strength, because He wasn't going to give you anything, you'd have to earn it, and His forgiveness.

"Is there a point to praying or lighting your candles? You don't even have a menorah." Quinn said softly.

"I am hopeful we will be able to find one before we need it. And of course there is a point -comfort, tradition, _heritage._ I cannot believe -" Rachel frowned at her, and her voice raised a bit from the near whisper they'd all be talking in.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, I meant…why _bother._ There's no God. How can there be?" Quinn shrugged, and handed Dahlia to Santana, then started untangling herself from Beth and Abby, and the blankets.

"You sound like Kurt did," Santana muttered, "There's a God. He just doesn't _care._"

"Hanukkah is about unity and _strength_ -I confess I am rather agnostic, which is not a deal breaker in the Jewish faith, but Sarah seems to be finding comfort in the thought of God. Although I did have to explain to her that Jews do not believe in Heaven, which seemed to shake her a bit until she decided that since we were celebrating Christmas and Santa, she could still believe in heaven as well," Rachel sighed.

"You used to be more Catholic then I was Quinn," Santana muttered.

"Maybe I've lost my faith. Maybe I've grown up," she shrugged.

"Maybe you should try praying. I'm not saying there's a point, or you'll get anything from it, but it can't hurt. It's helping me, I think, and Tiffany," Santana grudgingly admitted, glaring at the wall. Quinn knew it had taken a lot from Santana to admit that.

Santana was Catholic too. They'd gone to different churches -there was just enough nonwhite Catholics in Lima to have their own church.

She visited Santana's a few times -it was almost entirely the same as the church her family went to, but there was a greater sense of community, and less showing off.

"Maybe," Quinn shrugged. She was just about to say something to Santana -to try to keep this new trend of Santana actually talking to Quinn -when Santana stood up, and left the word without another word to either of them.

Quinn scowled, and wouldn't meet Rachel's worried eyes.

* * *

"Next time, you pick the song then Lentil," Santana smirked.

Rachel sighed, "I am simply saying, when I asked you to sing, I was expecting Ava Maria. Not a _Flyleaf_ song."

Santana shrugged lazily as Quinn parked the car, "Flyleaf is -was, whatever, made up of super Christian members, so it totally counts. I think the kids liked it at least."

Santana, Tiffany, and Kyle had joined them at the tail end of Rachel and Sarah's religious studies -Rachel had read from the Torah, then asked Santana to sing something.

"Next time I'm reading from the bible. In_ Spanish._"

"We don't even _have_ a bible," Quinn pointed out, turning off the car.

"We're at a bookstore, I'll get one," Santana replied quickly, then smirked, "I'll get a couple dozen, the kids can use them for building blocks."

"As if we have enough room in our bags for that many. But I do think it would be absolutely lovely, Santana, if you would like to have a nondenominational religious activity once a week." Rachel darted out of the SUV, and before either other girl could say anything, she brought the zombie near the car down with one bash of her crowbar to the knee, then shoved it through the eye while it grasped for her, making it still. She darted back to where Santana and Quinn were watching her, and finished her thought, "I think it would be beneficial to the children as well."

Neither of them answered her. Santana was practically quivering in anticipation as they watched the zombies milling aimlessly around the bookstore parking lot.

Quinn was frowning, constantly shifting her backpack's straps around as they watched, and fiddling with her hair. Finally Quinn took a deep breath, then said, "There's what, ten? Twelve? Not counting the one Rachel just killed. They're heading towards us, so we circle around, lead them out of the parking lot, then come back and head inside."

"Then we clear each area, then we tend to our lists." Rachel added nodding.

"We need to check every room. No surprises," Santana added firmly. Kurt's death was on all of their minds, so Rachel and Quinn simply nodded as Santana kept scowling at the zombies, her bat now in her hands.

Rachel gripped her crowbar tightly, and double checked the weight in her duffle bag to reassure herself she had spare ammo in it as well as her jacket, should it come to that. They had learned quickly that guns would just draw more zombies, so they stuck to melee weapons unless they were going to be quick.

Rachel had yet to met anyone -even _Finn_, who could go into a bookstore and be out as quickly as they would need to be if they used their guns, and she very much doubted that would change now, especially not with how dimly lit it would be inside and the fact that their lists were for the most part not specific.

As soon as the closest zombie neared a few car lengths away from them, Quinn nodded at Rachel and Santana, and took off at a medium jog, leaving her backpack by the car. Santana followed suit, grimacing, and finally Rachel followed them, dropping her own bag as well.

Heart pounding, her boots making soft noises against the pavement, she easily kept up with Santana. Quinn was a few feet ahead of them, and kept turning back to check up on them, and that the zombies were following.

Rachel was forced to grip her crowbar with one gloved hand, and use the other to keep her rifle from slapping against her back as they jogged.

Occasionally one of them would yell or shout something to the zombies to ensure they were followed -none of them felt quite like singing at the moment.

It took twenty long minutes, but they had the zombies a few blocks away, then ducked through an alley and several yards to get back to the book store.

Another dozen zombies had joined the ones from the parking lot, and she had become nervous -it was impossible to tell the difference between zombies if there had been any hunters or the eerily smart ones lurking about.

Luckily, there had not been this time.

They'd crept to the back door, and after judicial use of her crowbar, had entered the back rooms.

They took their time going through the stock rooms and the employee's only areas, before entering the store front.

Immediately they spied a man.

The man saw them just as quickly, and shoved the books into his backpack, zipped it quickly, then tossed it on one shoulder, the leather strap squeaking against the leather vest he wore.

With his free hand, he rubbed at the scruff on his chin, before putting his hand near the gun at his belt.

Rachel assumed he was on drugs, or had been. He had that look about him -that lean, hungry look of someone who would rather have whatever it is that they are addicted to then food, -and the leather biker vest, declaring him a member of the Dogs of Hell biker gang did little to sway that first impression.

She clutched both hands tightly, the cold metal of the crowbar seeping through her gloves, and the handle of her duffle bag making her palm ache.

She wanted to drop them both and go for her rifle.

Quinn, it seemed, did not share those same feelings -she simply ignored the man and headed to the section on her list, with a look at Rachel.

Santana didn't either, "We're here for books. Tal vez el café también. Don't try to rape, rob, or murder us."

The man snorted, "Lucky for you, I'm also here for books. I've already met my quota on raping, robbing, and murdering, there's nothing else to do but read until next week." He slid his backpack back down, and after another look at the three of them, lingering on Rachel and her rifle, he opened it and began putting more books in.

Rachel didn't doubt that for a second.

Santana ambled up near the man, he was in the new releases section which was on Santana's list. At least Santana was a healthy distance as she started finding the books she needed.

Rachel knew she should go start gathering her own books -but until this stranger was gone, one way or another, she simply could not move, she would never forgive herself if something happened to either of them.

She dropped the duffle bag when Santana and the man reached for the same book, ready to grab her rifle. Santana stared at him, then said, "Rock paper scissors? Loser looks in the back, or whatever."

"Just keep it kid," the man muttered.

"Kid? I'm an adult. The name's Santana." Santana said flippantly, as she shoved the book into her backpack.

Rachel made a mental note to speak to Santana about how they should treat strangers, especially potentially dangerous strangers.

"Sludge."

Santana turned towards him, "No way is that your real name."

"Parents were hippies. _Weird_ hippies."

"Bull shit. Show me your driver's license."

"Burned it. Ain't like anyone's gonna be checking 'em."

Santana snorted, "More like it's because that's bull shit."

"Didn't realize there'd be a snot nosed kid demanding proof of my name."

Santana laughed. Rachel realized it was the first time she'd really laughed since Brittany and Tina had been taken -they'd all been treating her with kid gloves, but perhaps that was not what Santana needed. All was quiet for a moment until Santana started rummaging through her bag, and pulled out a granola bar. She unwrapped it, and started idly munching it as she looked through the book titles.

Rachel had started to relax, a bit, and had even been considering tending to her own list until she saw how alert the man -Sludge, was as he immediately zeroed on the granola bar, going so far as to stop and watching Santana eat.

Santana noticed this before Rachel could step forward, and reached into her bag and grabbed her other granola bar. They carried a limited supply of food with them when they went out to gather supplies -anything that was not consumed was up to the person it belonged to stash it in a drawer somewhere, perhaps a car for another trip, or return to the communal supplies -they had to inform Rachel either way so she could make a note of it on the supply list. It was important they knew what they had at all times. "Here, these things taste like cardboard, I can only stomach one a day anyway."

Sludge looked as surprised as Rachel -but nowhere near as furious as she suddenly was, as he caught it in midair, and quickly shoved it into his bag.

"Thanks kid."

The way he'd been looking at it, Rachel expected him to eat it, not pocket it.

_Drugs,_ obviously, rendering his appetite low.

"Santana," she hissed, picking up the bag and dragging it towards the Latina girl, "What are you doing?"

"Right now? Grabbing Terri the latest, and probably _last_ Norah Roberts book. But maybe she's holed up somewhere with a typewriter, working on the first book in a new series heavily inspired by real zombie events. What are _you_ doing?"

"You cannot give away our food! If you don't want to eat it, it goes back into the general supplies or for another trip," Rachel hissed in a harsh whisper, eyeing Sludge, who had moved on to a few rows of books away.

"He was eyeing that the way Puck used to eye me in a bikini, it was one lousy granola bar." Santana shrugged, and shoved the rest of the one she'd been eating into her mouth.

"He is a stranger," Rachel clinched her teeth, "That one granola bar could have been," she gestured wildly, dropping the duffle bag and crowbar both, "the difference between Tiffany starving to death before our garden comes in."

Santana swallowed, and shook her head, "Over dramatic much Rachel?" Santana shoved the list in her pocket, and hefted the bag up on her shoulder, "Look, I get it. You're into stranger danger, us first blah blah. But think about this -say we do things your way, it's just us verses the world, Lord of the Flies, whatever. What kind of future is that going to give Tiffany and the other kids? It's not like I gave him half our stuff, okay?"

"Shhh, he heard you say her name, and now he knows about her and the children," Rachel couldn't control the high pitched tone she'd shifted into, frantic worry seeping through her now that he knew it wasn't just the three of them, that they had hidden vulnerabilities. She unslung her rifle, and held it in her hands, ready to use it.

"Sludge, you care we got kids waiting on us?" Santana called out with a smirk.

"You eating 'em?" He called out after a pause.

"Ew, no."

"Then nope, unless it's goats."

Santana turned back to Rachel, "See Rachel? Chill."

Rachel couldn't help it, Santana was the absolute worst, and was_ endangering_ them _all,_ and several years of pent up frustration at Santana's behavior controlled what she did next.

She dropped her rifle onto the duffle bag, and slapped Santana. _Hard._

It took Santana a moment look at Rachel again, and when she did Santana raised her eyebrows, and wiped at the blood trickling down from her lip, "You did not just hit me Berry. Puta, I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent, you are so lucky my mom didn't pack my hair blades."

"Your dad was a_ doctor_, and you only lived in Lima Heights Adjacent in your _toddler_ years," Rachel snarled, "There is _no_ way yo-" she was cut off as Santana dropped what she was holding, and leaped onto Rachel, bringing them both to the ground.

They rolled around, tugging each other's hair, slapping, and at one point Rachel squealed because Santana _bit_ her. They continued until, finally, Quinn sat on them, holding her own back pack and Santana's, the combined weight squashing Rachel, who was on top at that moment, into Santana, pinning them both down.

"Are you two done, or do you need to go into separate time out corners too?" Quinn asked dryly once Rachel and Santana both finished trying to get one last hair tug in.

Rachel could hear that man chuckling from somewhere in the store, and it sparked the rage back up that had died down. She wiggled, trying to get Quinn to get off them.

"Keep wiggling like that Hobbit and I'll forgive you for being you," Santana said sarcastically, and Rachel froze.

Without a word, Quinn stood up, and Rachel jumped up like she was on fire.

Santana sat up, and adjusted her pony tail, then looked stonily at Quinn, "I suppose this is where you tell me off, and make me run laps or something in a pale attempt to emulate Coach Sue."

"Emulate is a rather big word for you, isn't it? Good job, you get a gold star for the day Santana," Rachel glared at the other girl.

"Shut it man hands, I'm going to burn anything with a gold star on it you have, I swear."

"You both shouldn't be fighting, don't we have enough problems?" Quinn asked closing her eyes for a moment.

Santana spewed out a flow of Spanish too fast for Rachel to even attempt to catch as she stood up.

Not, apparently, for Quinn, "I'm not taking anyone's side Santana. I don't think a granola bar is a big deal, but you shouldn't be so friendly with someone we don't know either."

"Do you think I haven't noticed Rachel's suddenly your new best friend?" Santana spat.

"You only talk to me when we're on a supply run. You _blame_ me for Brittany and Tina." Quinn replied flatly.

As angry as she still was, the logical part of her still recognized that the pair needed to talk, so, Rachel grabbed her things, and stomped away to find the items on her list, and perhaps see if the bookstore's small coffee shop had anything useful -they could always use coffee and whatever drink stuff may be there.

It didn't take her long to fill the duffle bag with her list (and enough journals and pen sets for everyone, three of the books she'd skimmed mentioned journaling, so she took that as a sign,) even in the dim light, and after heading to check on Quinn and Santana -still talking, but sitting on the floor next to each other now, she meandered to the small coffee shop in the back of the store.

She stopped, and glared hotly at the man…Sludge as he finished tying a bulging tote bag to his backpack.

"I do not suppose," she said icily, "There is any more coffee?"

"Nope. Place was pretty cleaned out -just enough to fill up one of those bookstore totes. If you all want any, I'll trade you." He didn't look up from adjusting his items.

Her fingers itched for her rifle.

It would be _so_ easy to simply shoot this man. It would be so _easy._

She was suddenly horrified as she realized just_ how_ easy it would be.

She took several deep breaths trying to calm her new found murderous urges.

Quinn was correct -she, and the other's…likely _lead_ by _herself,_ were well on their way down a slippery slope.

She would _not_ kill a man over coffee, no matter what her low impression of him was, what kind of drug addled criminal he likely was -he was another person, another survivor, first and foremost.

"What would you like?" She said calmly, calling upon her considerable skills as an actress to appear calm, as inside she was quite shaken as her realization.

"Books," he snorted, and Rachel almost found him amusing, "Food or gas."

"We are incredibly low on fuel, but we do have food -what would you like in exchange for the entire bag?"

"What do you got?"

They bargained -eventually Rachel acquired the bulging tote bag for three pounds of rice, ten cans of vegetables, and five pounds of beans.

She knew that she hadn't quite received the best deal -but she was still quite shaken at how easily she could have killed him, so allowed things to veer into his favor.

"Alright. Meet me on 9th Avenue, in front of the blue house with smoke coming out of the chimney. Not the green house. Park and wait, don't come up to the door -buddies won't like that." The man muttered, "Before dark. Got some other places to stop at, so make it no sooner than a couple of hours, alright?"

Rachel nodded, "Very well."

Without another word to her, the man headed for the exit.

Mulling over how easy she was willing to kill, dragging her duffle bag absentmindedly behind her back to the others, she barely noticed Santana stand up and leave Quinn, coming to stand in front of her.

"Berry."

Rachel stopped, and said warily, "Santana."

Santana simply looked at her expectantly, and with a sigh, Rachel said, "I am sorry I hit you -even if you quite deserved it,"

Santana snorted, "Probably. I'm sorry I bit you, and that I was winning before Quinn stopped us."

"How exactly do you figure that? I was on top," Rachel said hotly.

Santana leaned over, and kissed her.

Sputtering, asking "What was _that?_" Rachel pulled away, her eyes darting to Quinn who frowned, and started walking towards them.

Santana shrugged, "Figured maybe you were as _lonely, _sad, and _horny_ as I am Berry. And you know, two gay dads, I assumed you'd go for it -you're probably bisexual or super gay and using Finn as a beard -just about the only explanation I could come up with someone willing to date him."

"First, that is an offensive stereotype that just because one has -had, gay parents, means one is gay. Secondly, we were _just_ fighting. Thirdly, I…I am..." Rachel could not help it -she stared at Quinn, who had silently joined them, and trailed off.

"Rachel, don't even bother. Santana, she's my...girlfriend? Life partner?" Quinn said softly, then in added with a shrug, "Whatever. She's _mine._ And I'm _her's. _And I should have told you a while ago."

Quinn's declaration sent a thrillful shiver down Rachel's spin -and she suddenly realized why so many women had read romance novels with possessive partners. There was something incredibly comforting and safe feeling about someone declaring you were theirs. Not to mention it reassured Rachel's constant fears that Quinn did not care for her the same way.

And she was incredibly proud of Quinn for telling Santana the truth in this moment, instead of forcing Rachel to come up with yet another lie -although Santana likely would not have been surprised by a flat no.

Santana stared at them both, head cocked to the side. "Huh. Either Rachel's infected you with the gay passed on from her parents, or…no, this _totally_ makes sense."

"So you're okay with us? We're okay?" Quinn asked softly.

"Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry, lesbian lovers. _Life partners._ Yeah…kinda weird," Santana shrugged, "I doubt Rachel could have separated feelings from pure sex anyway, and in hindsight it was an awful idea to kiss her…but if I can handle zombies, and Brittany…Brittany being _gone_…you remember we talked about that when all this started?"

Quinn nodded, "You didn't think you'd be able to handle it at all."

"I know. And, after a crappy first week or whatever, I'm handling it."

"You've stayed completely out of the new bottle I added to our medical supplies," Rachel said, giving Santana a small smile, "I have not even felt the need to check since before…Kurt."

"Of course you knew and were keeping track," Santana rolled her eyes.

"Only because Sam told me he was worried -we decided it would be best to give you some time, then speak to you about it at a point."

"Whatever. Anyway, if I can handle all that, I can handle the unnatural pairing of Q and Berry. Qerry? Queery?" Santana's face morphed from the quiet seriousness to a hard grin, "You two want a threesome? Purely sex, no feelings" She wiggled her eyebrows, then laughed, "Ew, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. But I guess I can stomach giving you advice and pointers on sex? Lady on lady sex is -"

Rachel cut her off, with a light blush as Quinn blushed deeper, "Thank you Santana, but we are not at that point in our relationship yet."

That didn't stop Santana from going on, in heavy detail, the entire car ride back to the apartment building.

Rachel took mental notes, just in case. Even if she wasn't quite sure some of the things Santana was saying was not just to mess with them.

They were far from that point anyway, but right now it was enough that she was highly anticipating being able to hold Quinn's hand in front of everyone.

* * *

They had lugged the bags full of books into the entrance, leaving them for Stevie and Kyle (with Sam's supervision) to bring up.

Rachel had gently held Quinn's hand then entire walk upstairs. The pink haired girl had pulled her hand out of Rachel's while Santana had opened the door.

That was a talk they needed to have later.

Rachel adjusted the straps of her messenger bag (she was certain Santana kept making them long, because no matter how many times Rachel adjusted them short again, every single time she went to use it she had to readjust the length) and stood in the doorway as Santana once more reassured Tiffany that they would be back soon, and Quinn redressed Beth in her coat, with strict instructions to keep it on.

They had allowed the children to use nonsmoking apartment on the first floor to play and run around in. The building was sound proof enough that they could be loud to an extent, without irritating anyone else, and the climb up and down the stairs served to help tire them out.

Kyle and Stevie had been grounded from the privilege, (and had a fair amount of extra chores) when they had decided to sneak outside the front door of the apartment building, to everyone's horror.

Luckily, there had been no zombies lurking -and their reactions had sufficiently scared the other children into not daring to even _think_ about doing the same.

"Churchill will be here, she'll keep us safe," Sarah assured Tiffany as Santana finally managed to detangle herself from the blonde girl and headed for the door.

"She should go with Santana then," Tiffany said tearfully as both girls watched Santana walk towards Rachel.

Quinn hugged Beth, then Abby, then Tiffany, then Sarah, and headed out as well, telling the girl's Sam or Terri would come check on them in a little bit, all three of them carrying the foodstuffs for that Sludge man in a couple of plastic bags.

The conversation trailed off until Quinn pulled onto 9th street, and asked, "Which house?"

"The only one with smoke?" Santana leaned forward and pointed to the house with the smoke coming from the chimney, "Let's get this over with."

Quinn parked a fair distance away from the faded green house, and as they set about unbuckling and getting out of the car, Quinn mentioned, "She's getting better about you going out."

"She is. She's also getting a lot better about keeping her clothes on while she's using the bathroom -she's keeping her shirt and socks on now." Santana muttered, slinging on her bat and facing the house.

"It's a wonder she took them off at all, the bathrooms are rather chilly," Rachel mused, adjusting the rifle on her back.

Santana shrugged, "Little kids are weird."

Rachel nodded, "True. I remember when I was seven, and going through a bit of a cat phase. Daddy was adamantly a dog person and refused to even entertain the thought of a cat in the house. In compensation for not receiving a kitten, I demanded to be taken to see Cats on Broadway. Which was quite silly of me, of course, as the show's run had been over by then."

"And it was all the way in _New York_?" Quinn said dryly.

"That too." Rachel nodded towards the house, "Someone is coming."

"Too chubby to be Sludge," Santana said with a frown, "Maybe one of the buddies he was talking about?"

Rachel unslung her rifle, and let it hang ready at her side as the man approached him.

"Ladies, I couldn't help notice you lurking around my house. It's always nice to see another person," the man was chubby, and Rachel had the impression he'd been even chubbier a few months ago -something about the way his clothing hung on him. His hair was snow white, and his short beard and long mustache looked soft and waxed, respectively, "but I'd appreciate it if you didn't draw attention to my house."

"We've got the stuff for Sludge," Quinn said, pointedly looking at the bags at Santana's feet.

"Sludge? I'm O'Conner. Paul O'Conner. I'm afraid you've got the wrong house -they're a few blocks up, blue house, you'll know it when you see it because since the snow's melted there's always a few deads lurking around. Damnest thing, that weather, isn't it? Mark my words, one morning we're going to wake up and there will be a foot of snow on the ground and growing. We're in for a snow storm the likes of which we haven't seen before," the man said, babbling amiably. Rachel assumed he didn't get much chance for conversation.

"Quinn, Rachel, and I'm Santana," Santana said, nodding at each of them, "And I guess that means we should get going if this is the wrong house." She bent down to pick up one of the bags, and out of her backpack fell Queenie. "Oh. I told Tiffany Queenie would keep her safe if something ate Lord Tubbington -she was really worried about that even though we don't let the cat out of the building. I guess she figured Queenie could keep _us_ safe too."

The man sighed then said, "Children are capable of so much, aren't they? It's admirable you've managed to keep her safe when there's so much horror in the world now."

"It hasn't been easy keeping them safe," Quinn said quietly, then reached down to pick up the bags Santana didn't, "And we've got to be going."

"And there was horror in the world before -it is just no longer confined to the shadows," Rachel added, making sure he got a good view of her rifle. Just in case he wasn't as friendly as he appeared. She was still wary of strangers but the ease of being able to kill was still lingering in the back of her mind. It was also the explanation she had for forgetting Sludge's home was blue, normally her memory was quite good.

"Of course, of course," Paul O'Conner said, eyeing Rachel's rifle with a sharp glance before nodding at them, "Have a good day then. Always nice to see someone besides the usual crowd. Please do stop by again for a chat -and prepare for the weather!" he grinned at them, before disappearing back into his house.

"It must suck to be alone," Santana muttered as they drove further down the road.

Quinn said softly, "Only having to worry about yourself -it's freeing."

"No one to watch your back. Only zombies to talk to. Free or not, it's gotta_ suck,_" Santana leaned forward again, "I'm guess that's the house, considering Sludge is in front of it looking grumpy."

Sludge looked twitchy and nervous as they parked. He frowned at them as they walked up to him, "You got everything?"

"Yup. You didn't empty out half the bag and refill it up with books or something?" Santana said, handing the first grocery bag over.

"Nope. You didn't half empty everything and weigh it down with rocks did you?" Sludge asked grinning toothily at them.

"Nope. Good idea though, we should do it next time," Santana rolled her eyes, and handed him the rest of the bags. In response, he simply hefted the bag full of coffee to her, which she took with an muttered curse a the weight.

"Speaking of next time, anytime you ladies wanna trade for food, you know where to find me. Good with cars, usually get some stuff none of us want, dunno we'll see," Sludge said, clutching the grocery bags and staring at them hard, "You should leave now, your car probably attracted a lot of attention -sounds like something's wrong with the exhaust."

"What, you aren't going to invite us in for tea and crumpets?" Santana tossed over her shoulder as they headed back to the car, making Sludge snort quietly.

* * *

In no time at all, they were home. Quinn felt a warm feeling bubble through her -she'd proven to the others that they could coexist peacefully with strangers. It was a step_ forward._

Smiling to herself, and at Rachel as the shorter girl starting making dinner for everyone, Quinn shuffled through her drawing supplies, and her art pad until she came upon what she was looking for. Grabbing them, she stood up from the table, and quietly walked to Blaine's room, passing Sam and the boys (who were both grumpy at not being allowed to play downstairs with the others) sorting the pile of books they'd lugged up in one trip. She knew Rachel would want to talk, and she wasn't looking forward to it. She was so damn scared, even though Santana now knew, that she'd let go of Rachel's hand.

"Blaine?" She asked gently at the door. When he muttered for her to come in, she brushed aside the curtain, and entered.

Blaine was wrapped up in the sheepskin throw, just holding Dahlia. His hair was longer now, and he hadn't bothered to gel it, so it was in messy curls around his face. Personally, she thought he looked nice with it all wild and curly.

"Hey. How's she doing?" She smiled down at Dahlia, and realized for the first time that the baby had Blaine's wild brown curly hair -or she would, anyway, when she was older and it was longer.

"She's fine. Dinner ready?"

"Not yet. I've got something for you, actually," tentatively, she handed the two drawings to him, "I was going to give this to you for Christmas, but I thought you might like them now."

He gazed down at the drawings she'd done -the large one was contained a group picture that had every single one of Blaine's friends she could find in his phone, the New Directions, his mom, his dad and step mom, and his brother -and Kurt too. The smaller one was just of Kurt and Dahlia that Kurt had posed for.

"Kurt got me your phone so I could include everyone in it that you had pictures of. Your brother was in that commercial wasn't he?" As Blaine laughed and nodded, curls bouncing wildly, and tears in his eyes as he stared at the picture, she continued, "Sorry about the battery life it took from your phone, I know you've been saving it all this time...I tried to sketch as fast as I could. The smaller one was Kurt's idea. He wanted you to have something you could carry around to, and I quote, 'remind Blaine why he needed to come back.'" The irony wasn't lost on either of them, she was pretty sure.

"Thank you Quinn, this is amazing," Blaine's sincerity was clear as he looked at her, and she squished down the bit of pride she felt.

She shrugged, "You're welcome. I was working on one for Kurt -his dad, Carole, but…"

Tears finally fell from Blaine's eyes, and Blaine stared at the drawings before looking at her, "He didn't bring any photos. None of his dad, or his mom. Carole _had_ -she'd taken care of all that for both the Hummel men, but he'd been so concerned about clothes that he just left it all up to her, and then when she died and how we left the cabin, he just…wasn't thinking. It ate him up inside…I know it's probably a lot of work, but…could you finish the drawings for him, please? Please?"

She nodded, not knowing what was the right thing to say. So she simply hugged him, pulling away quickly.

* * *

Sam burst through the door holding Abby and Beth, followed by a pale Stevie, and Kyle who was taking deep puffs off his inhaler.

He yelled for Quinn, and once she and Blaine were through the door, he set the two toddlers down. Quinn immediately scooped up Beth, and Rachel held and started comforting a sobbing Abby.

Running a hand through his hair, he said, "The girls are gone."

"Gone?" Rachel gave Kyle and Stevie a pointed look over Abby's head, "Did they venture out of the building?"

"No…no," Sam reached out a hand and gently placed it on Abby's back, "Shhh, you're not in trouble sweetie, and Santa is bringing you presents. Tell them what you told Kyle, okay?"

It took several minutes, but eventually Abby told them, if they were understanding her right, that Santa took Tiffany, and Sarah with him to his workshop.

Rachel handed Abby to Sam, and went to the door. She started pulling on her boots, and Quinn stared at her as she clutched Beth, "Where are you going Rachel?"

Rachel finished zipping the second boot, and stared at first Quinn, then the others, seriously, "Quite obviously that Sludge man followed us home and for whatever reason, took two of our children. I did not like the looks of him at all, and clearly my instincts were correct. And I -and whomever goes with me, am going to," she buttoned her father's coat, then slung on her rifle, "get them back before any harm befalls them."

Quinn looked down, "We don't know it was him…" she whispered, "It could have been anyone following the smoke from our fireplace straight here."

"Perhaps. But he _will_ be_ questioned,_" Rachel said. Various forms of atrocities that happen _-happened_ to animals at mass produced egg and meat farms were going through her mind -some of which, she was quite sure, she would be fully willing to do to Sludge or any of his buddies until they told her where the girls were.

Any previous fear she had at how willing she'd been to kill a man for something as petty as coffee were forgotten.

People were, and have always been, awful to each other, to animals, to the environment -and the zombie apocalypse did not change that.

Santana had been silent while Sam had coaxed words from the crying two year old, before she let loose a long stream of curse words in Spanish. "Let's go already," she snarled, loading bullets into her gun.

When Quinn started pulling on her boots and coat as well, Rachel frowned, "Quinn perhaps it would be best if you stayed here."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at Rachel. "Do you seriously think I'd stay behind when Tiffany and Sarah have been kidnapped?" Leaving "Especially after what happened with Brittany and Tina" implied and conveyed simply by the frown she was wearing.

"It's just…" Rachel could not quite bring herself to say that when it came to dealing with strangers, Quinn was too soft.

Something must have shown in her face, before Quinn gave her a steely look, "If it was Sludge or his friends, I can handle it okay? But without me, you and Santana are going to shoot first and ask questions later. What if they don't have them at the house and you two kill them all before finding out where they are?"

"I'm going too," Sam said.

"I'd like to go," Blaine said softly, moving Dahlia to his other side.

"Then I'll stay here." Sam said quickly.

Quinn opened the door, "Lock up the building, and don't expect us back before morning." She turned to Rachel, and stared at her a moment.

Then she kissed her.

She pulled away from a flabbergasted Rachel quickly, then turned to the others, "Rachel and I are together."

"It's not really the best time for this is it Quinn?" Terri said a bit shrilly, handing Rachel a hefty backpack, "I packed food and water for you." As Rachel opened her mouth, Terri nodded, "Yes, I marked it in the logbook. Now go get the girls and feed who took them to a zombie!"

Quinn shrugged, "Just wanted to get it over with. Ripping it off like a band aid. "

"Quinn, I am glad for you and Rachel," Blaine said a little sadly as he handed Dahlia to Terri.

Rachel's brain was still slightly in shock, and she took several deep breaths. She needed to focus.

Rachel nodded at Terri, "Thank you for packing for us. Blaine please get dressed."

It did not take long for a pale faced Blaine to get his outside clothes on, and soon they headed for the cars.

For once, Rachel was not concerned -as she usually was when they took a vehicle out, with their dwindling fuel supply.

* * *

If Santana ever looked at Rachel like she was staring at the blue house they were parked in front of, Rachel would be absolutely petrified.

Baring her teeth, Santana shoved open the door, and was already halfway down the walkway by the time Quinn, Blaine, and Rachel had their seat belts off and their doors opens.

Santana viciously brought her baseball bat against a lurking zombie's head several times, turning it into mush by the time the trio had caught up to her. "Come on," she growled, leading them down the path towards the front door.

When they were a few feet from the door, it opened.

"What do you kids want?" Sludge asked, his eyes darting to the fallen zombie, to Blaine, then to Santana.

"Someone took our kids," Santana spat, gripping her bat tightly, "Was it you?"

Rachel rested her hand on her rifle, which hung at her side, "I will shoot you in the leg if I need too," she said in the tone of voice normally reserved for Coach Sylvester. Polite, but cool.

Her hands itched to hold her rifle properly, but Quinn had forbidden her.

Until Quinn gave her the signal.

"Shit. No, I didn't. You sure they didn't just wander away?" Sludge stepped through the door and closed it. He then leaned -far too relaxed in Rachel's opinion, against the porch railing.

"They wouldn't. Either you followed us home, or someone saw our smoke," Quinn said patiently, stepping in front of Santana.

She watched Quinn's hands like a hawk -as soon as Quinn made a peace sign, she was allowed to fully grasp the comforting weight of her rifle properly.

A peace sign was certainly an ironic signal.

"I dunno what to tell you kids," Sludge rubbed the stubble on his face, staring off into the distance concentrating. Rachel was quite sure Santana was about to do something, when Sludge finally said, "I'll help you look for them. A trade."

"Surely you cannot be expecting us to bargain with you while who knows what is happening to the girls," Rachel hissed hotly. She absolutely ached for her rifle, to properly hold it and aim it at this man.

He shrugged, "Gotta do what you gotta do."

"Let leave," Blaine said quietly, "We can start looking for other people."

"We only have him at his word that he and his buddies do not have Tiffany and Sarah," Rachel said, glaring at the man.

"You can't take a man at his word, he ain't much of a man," Sludge shrugged again. She narrowed his eyes, and glared harder at him, at his sketchy slim form.

"Shawn," a voice called from behind Sludge, and the door opened. A curly haired brunette poked her head out, then stepped outside.

"Violeta, get back in the house. Walkers are always lurking, and it ain't especially safe right now." Sludge stepped to block the woman from their view.

Violeta sighed, and stepped away from him, "I'm fine, honestly." She was a pretty Hispanic woman, and her hair was absolutely lovely, and fell to her hips.

She was very thin, and her pregnant stomach looked like a basketball under the sweater she wore. She gazed at the four of them worriedly, biting at her lip before turning to Sludge.

"Do you need help?" Rachel called to her, stepping forward. She would not put it past him to have taken this woman -Violeta, against her will.

Rachel was imagining several sceneries, all of them unpleasant, when the woman answered, "Help? Sweetie I think you four are the ones that need help. Shawn, you _will_ help them," she nodded at Sludge, "I know he does not look like it, but he is -or was, a police officer. He can help you find your children. He was undercover when all this first started."

"Him?" Rachel skeptically, "You truly expect us to believe that? Quinn you are not believing this, are you? Surely this is just a distraction to allow his cohorts to abscond with the girls."

"I don't…know," Quinn said.

"I believe them," Santana rested her bad on her shoulder, "I think. My people instincts are usually on point."

"Can you afford to risk Tiffany's life on your instincts?" Rachel said, "What would Brittany think? We don't know who his buddies are, even. "

"Don't breath her name, hobbit." Santana snapped, "Brittany trusted my instincts."

Rachel opened her mouth to sharply reply, when Quinn shot her a look. Frowning, she stayed silent.

"Tia," Violeta called softly, and as if she'd been listening at the door, an older woman who strongly resembled Violeta -if she'd been aged forty years, stepped through the doorway. "That's all of us," she smiled ruefully down at her stomach, "Well, except for my baby, but you won't get to meet him or her until May or so."

"They're the buddies you were talking about?" Santana snorted.

"I don't care if you were just a bunch of teenage girls, I wasn't gonna let you know about my pregnant wife and Aunt-in-law," Sludge muttered.

"If you _were_ undercover, why do you still have the," Blaine gestured at Sludge wordlessly.

"I was undercover in a biker gang for three years son. Just as we were about to take those fu-" Sludge paused as the older woman cleared her throat pointedly, "Those _criminals_ down, the world turned into a zombie movie. Violeta was here visiting her mom and Aunt, and I hightailed it here from Michigan. It was a lot easier to be a biker then it was to be a cop," he clinched his jaw, and Blaine did not ask any further questions.

"I was telling them about the baby -I wanted them to help me figure out an amazing way to surprise Shawn with the news," Violeta smiled down at her stomach, putting a hand gently on it.

Rachel huffed, "Very well. You are not a drug addled criminal. We are wasting time, however. It shall be dark soon, and that will make an already difficult task even harder."

"Rachel's right," Sludge said, making Rachel glare at him, "I'll help you. And you can give me what you think is fair for helping you later."

"If we do not find the girls -you get nothing," Rachel added.

"Fine," He nodded down the road, "O'Conner's got a few of barrels of good diesel in his garage, I've traded a bit with him. I'm sure he'd be willing to help us out -he's a good guy."

"Good people have no place in this world anymore," Rachel said firmly, stepping forward towards the bush that separated Sludge's yard from the next house over, and solidly spiking her crowbar through the eye of the zombie she had noticed crawling under the bush. She turned her blood spattered form towards the others, and said sharply, "Time is wasting, we need to _go._"

"Violeta, back inside the house," Sludge said, gesturing towards the door.

"You need to think of the baby," Tia said softly in a lightly accented voice, then said several fast sentences in Spanish as Violeta started protesting.

* * *

Rachel Berry was scaring her.

Quinn was too, a little -she wasn't used to seeing Quinn in her "Head Cheerio" mode, so it was a little off putting when she got all leadery, barking orders and being solidly in charge.

But Rachel freaking Berry was making Santana want to toss that rifle of hers in a lake, just in case Rachel snapped and when all Columbine on them.

Someone -obviously Quinn was too _whipped_ to do so, needed to have a long talk telling Rachel to chill out a little.

It was easier to think about Rachel being weird and cold then Tiffany and Sarah.

Or Brittany and Tina.

God, when would they catch a break? It was almost like they were God's personal chew toys -as soon as something finally went right for them, something else would happen purely for that _bastard's_ entertainment.

When she told Quinn she had felt better when she prayed to Him…well, it was less "prayer" and more "nightly rant session".

As soon as the SUV was parked in front of the green house, she bounded out of it, and slammed the baseball bat into the nearest zombie. There was a dozen of them, and more coming, towards the house across the street.

Good.

She nodded at Blaine, who had followed her tepidly, then nodded at the zombies.

Peaky, he nodded, and raised his metal hockey stick that had been found and added to the supply apartment for whomever wanted it. Santana kinda did, and she could have taken it -but there was no Brittany to knit a new holder for it, so she'd kept her bat, and the strap Brittany had knitted for it.

Heart heavy, she brought her bat down against head after head as the others -including Shawn (she knew like hell Sludge had been his real name), did their fair share. Soon, besides a few zombies shambling towards the commotion, it was relatively safe.

Blaine had a little more color in his face, a little more perk in his step, a little more life in his eyes, so there was that at least.

"We need to make this fast," Rachel frowned at the door to the green house.

"O'Conner usually keeps his bit of the neighborhood pretty clear," Shawn mumbled, putting his long knife back in its sheath on his leg after wiping it off on his pants.

If she wasn't so worried about Tiffany and Sarah, she'd make a comment about laundry to him.

"Why are they so drawn to that house? It's just O'Conner here right?" Quinn asked, staring at the small white house that sat across the green one.

"Far as I know," Shawn frowned, then cocked his head to the side. "Be right back."

He disappeared around the house towards the back. After a few moments, he called out, "Kids, come check back here."

They shared a look among each other, and while Rachel muttered darkly under her breath, they followed him, widely circling around a fence and bushes.

As soon as they were in his sight, he nodded at the bushes they'd past, "Thought it looked like someone had run through 'em, but figured it was probably a couple dumb walkers chasing a squirrel. Good thing I still checked," then he nodded at the small window in the back door that someone had broken.

It had fresh blood on it.

"That's why they keep coming to this house?" Blaine said, bringing the hockey stick down on a zombie that had veered towards them to closely.

"Yup. No matter what kinda weird as hell walkers they are -fresh blood attracts 'em better then sound," Shawn shrugged, "May as well see who's in there."

You learn something new in the zombie apocalypse every day.

Before he could open the door, it opened, and Paul O'Conner grinned at them. "Thank you for the help, I was too loud getting home from checking out the RV dealership earlier. Had to high tail it here instead of the house, didn't want to bring them there, I-"

"Sure man," Shawn interrupted him patiently, "Listen we could use your help, we…." Shawn trailed off…"Paul, where'd you hurt yourself on the glass?" and he nodded at the fresh blood.

"Oh, that was there when I came back here. Must have been a deads."

"_Zombie's,_" Rachel said clearly, louder then she should have, "Zombie's have -and they, well most of them, can't-"

"Rachel?" A small voice called, "Rachel?!" it added a little louder.

"Sarah." Rachel pushed past O'Conner, and went into the house. After several moments, she came back carrying a sobbing Tiffany, Sarah following behind her, pale faced and clutching her hand to her chest.

Santana dropped her bat, and took Tiffany from Rachel's arms. Hugging the girl closely, she looked at Sarah, who Quinn had wrapped carefully into her arms.

Paul O'Conner started blubbering, "I wasn't going to hurt them, I just wanted to love them. I took good care of the girls I found, but they couldn't love me unless I hurt them. I didn't want to, but it wasn't safe otherwise. I wish I hadn't -they're dead, and dead things can't love, but I was lonely."

She hadn't known, really, if she'd have been able to pull a gun out and kill anyone at the clinic. Even for medicine. If she would have just stood there, frozen, watching Brittany kill someone for what they needed.

Sure, she'd like to talk tough and to an extent -she was.

But being one of the head bitches in high school was a hell of a lot different than killing anyone.

As the man carefully, earnestly, made promises that he hadn't touched either of the girls, that he loved them, that he wouldn't have done anything they hadn't wanted, her stomach twisted.

What if they -if _Shawn,_ hadn't found the girls? What if they'd been too late to save them? Saved them from_ him_, anyway. This wasn't the type of shit you got over easily, and it wasn't like any of them were equipped to handle something like this. There was a _lot_ of stuff they weren't equipped to handle.

Maybe she wouldn't be able to kill anyone over food or even medicine, -she didn't know, but she sure as hell could kill this man.

She knew that with a certainty that went deep through her.

And she wouldn't lose any sleep, _either. _

She didn't think God would judge her for this or anything -but maybe he would, he was a dick.

She set Tiffany down carefully, and the five year old clutched her legs. "Cover your ears, and close your eyes Tiffany." As the sobbing blonde did as Santana asked, Santana looked Paul O'Conner, looked him in the eyes.

She said softly, "The world's fucked up enough as it is. There's enough dead monsters without alive ones lurking," she said. She pulled out her gun, and he stopped babbling to Shawn. He opened his mouth to, probably, say he wasn't a monster or some other crap like that.

She pointed the gun at his forehead, and fired.

Ears ringing, she put the gun back and stared at his body. Then she kicked him, hard, four or five times.

Then she fell to her knees, and wrapped her arms around Tiffany, hugging her to her tightly as a fresh stream of tears went down the girl's face. She stood up, picking Tiffany up, and joined Quinn and Sarah, wrapping an arm around the older girl who was still clutching her bloody hand to her chest.

"Let's get to O'Conner's house, and patch up her hand, then we'll get out of here," Shawn said, nodding at the two zombies that were slowly but surely heading towards them, "He'll have bandages and crap. Fresh wounds with no bandages are basically walker bait, but if you clean it and crap it's fine."

"Why?" Blaine asked softly as he picked up Santana's dropped baseball bat.

"Dunno son, I'm not a scientist." Everyone was silent as Shawn lead them back around the house and to the green house, "You kids don't have to give me anything. I can just take O'Conner's supplies. Bastard had a lot."

"That is acceptable. But we will be taking half of the fuel he has stored," Rachel said sharply.

Shawn snorted, "Fine. I'll even help you load it up."

Once they were safely in the house, the metal door securely locked, only then did Santana relax her tight grip on Tiffany.

"That bastard's med kit -or at least what he was willing for me to see, is in here. Should be enough but I can search for more if we need it. Might end up staying the night here anyway till the walkers wander away," Shawn muttered as he headed into the kitchen, the rest of them simply followed him.

He found the bright red box, and set it on the table, then looked at Sarah, "Alright sweetheart, I'm going to get the glass out, and clean it up. You were real brave. You both were."

"Do you want to tell us what happened Sarah?" Rachel asked her softly.

Tears still falling, Sarah nodded.

Shawn nodded too, "Better do it now if you want to do it."

Sarah took a deep breath, "We were playing, and after we said hi to you when you got back, a few minutes later he..he came in. Beth was by the door, and he picked her up. Said she was pretty, then told me and Tiffany to follow him and get into his car. He said he'd feed Beth to a zombie if we didn't."

Sarah burst into tears and started sobbing. Tiffany was still crying against Santana's good shoulder, Santana stopped rubbing her back to grip Sarah's hand.

When Sarah stopped sobbing long enough to talk again, "The car was a block away, and after we were in it, he told us he was going to put Beth back but if he came back and we were gone he'd get her and Abby and feed them both to a zombie. They're okay aren't they?"

After she had reassurances from everyone -even Shawn, despite him never having met either toddler, Sarah finished up with, "So we drove and once we parked I opened the door and we ran. There was a few zombies in the road, so I couldn't go far. I broke the door with my hand and we hid in a bathroom. He was trying to unlock the door to get us when you found us."

Then she started sobbing again.

"You did the right thing Sarah," Quinn said softly, petting the girl's hair gently, "So did you Santana."

* * *

That bastard's basement had a couple of zombie kids -little girl's, roped to the stair railings. He'd pulled their teeth out.

So Santana did end up losing sleep -but it wasn't from feeling bad about his death. It was from having nightmares about not finding them before anything else besides being kidnapped, or finding them in the basement with the other girl's.

It stopped her nightmares about Brittany and Tina, anyway.

Almost a week later, when Santana, Sam, Quinn, Blaine and Shawn were taking another stab at the elementary school, Shawn mentioned that the zombie girls had been zombies when that bastard had found them. It was some comfort, at least.

And that night she got her first full night's sleep without the aid of anything in a very long time.

* * *

A/N: And….we're back! Happy 2016 everyone!

Tal vez el café también: Perhaps the coffee too.

Shawn/Sludge calls zombies walkers on purpose -it's not me mixing up my zombie lore. Just the same as that no good Paul O'Conner called them deads.

A couple of things I might have mentioned in a review reply got cut, since this chapter was running super long.

I'd just like to say, it's tricky to grow the characters for the situation from their canon glee selfs to a survivor in the apocalypse, while still remaining in character and I'm muddling through as best I can.

Also almost none of you cared that Kurt died, I swear Christopher's death got more of a reaction.

I'm doing a rough outline for the sequel at the moment, and working hard on chapter one, so now's the time to let me know what kinda stuff you'd like to see in the sequel and I'll take your wishes into consideration. Mwahahahaha. I can tell you right now that one thing that will not show up is: untrained teenagers coming up with a cure. I absolutely hate it when I see that in zombie glee stories.…Maybe an author could bend things to say that Brittany could do it, if she did science stuff instead of cheerleading and motocross, but Rachel? Quinn? Santana? Nope.

Signed reviews get a preview of the next chapter as usual.


	32. God's Gonna Cut You Down PART 1

A/N: Trigger warning for mentions of a past rape of an OC.

* * *

Their days were simple.

They woke up and clung to each other, making sure the other hadn't disappeared during the night.

Then they took turns stumbling carefully to the bucket, the other girl pretending not to exist, trying to give the first some privacy.

Once they were done, they'd have their daily hunk of bread. Then they took turns sipping from the water pitcher for a minute, Brittany keeping track.

Then they talked, or played whatever game they could come up with.

Eventually, it'd be time for more water and a trip to the bucket.

Then they'd exercise. Yoga to make them flexible, pilates to make them strong, running in place for cardio.

Tina was 64 inches tall. Brittany was 68 inches tall. That was 11 feet. The door, and a tiny ledge, sat 12 feet above them. The ledge was 6 inches thick. So that made 1 and a half feet that they needed to reach.

Tina wasn't strong enough to throw Brittany up enough yet, and she couldn't just jump from Tina's hands.

It had to be Brittany, because Tina wouldn't be able to reach the small pulley system perched above the door.

A pulley system with a rope that their captors used to lower their trey and replace their bathroom bucket.

The rope she'd use to get Tina up on the ledge with her.

Then they would get through the door somehow, and leave.

Together.

Tina wasn't strong enough to toss her up.

Yet.

For an hour, sometimes two, they talk about something they had knew that the other did not -Brittany took to teaching Tina Spanish. Tina taught her Korean. And a little bit of Yiddish, because apparently her mother was a non-practicing Jew who had not taught Tina anything about that side of family besides some Yiddish phrases and insults.

Brittany felt bad she hadn't known that about Tina. That no one else except Mike had probably known that about Tina, and had just assumed she was adopted.

But they taught and discussed other things too. Tina had a huge knowledge about Victorian history. Brittany explained in great detail how she had trained Lord Tubbington so well.

Tina also taught, as best she could, Brittany the medical stuff she knew. And Brittany passed on her knowledge of motocross bikes, and what Kurt had taught her about cars.

It kept their brains sharp.

Eventually it was time for more water, and a last trip to the bucket.

Then sleep.

Over and over and over and over and over their days repeated itself.

Some days, one of them broke down and couldn't do anything but cry.

Or would just sit silently.

Those days were the worst.

But eventually, the other girl would pull her out it.

Brittany didn't know what she would have done if she'd been alone.

Tina agreed.

They had each other.

And that was enough.

Last year Santana had gone through a phase where she insisted for their weekly date night (but she wouldn't actually call it a date) they watched a movie where the main character lives their days over and over the same.

Brittany had really liked Run, Lola, Run even if they had to read instead of listen so that meant they couldn't make out. Groundhog day was Santana's favorite.

They'd watched both movies over and over that it was almost like they were living their own Groundhog day on date nights, until Santana got bored and suggested they switch to 80's slasher films.

Brittany didn't want to watch any of those movies ever again.

There was a particularly terrible day when they both woke up too sad to do anything, even talk to each other.

At some point, Brittany whispered, "We're going to die down here aren't we?"

It took many long minutes for Tina to respond. "I think we are."

They sat in silence. Brittany's body wanted to stretch; it wanted to run, it wanted sunshine. It wanted to hold her sister, and kiss Santana.

Neither of them cried.

They just sat their, waiting for death to come take them away from this place.

They had both fallen apart, and couldn't put them self back together, let alone the other girl.

Brittany didn't even keep track of the time, which later would annoy her because she didn't know what time the door opened.

Because the door opened, and their tray and bucket were replaced.

Like always, the bright light hurt their eyes terribly.

And like always, once the door closed it took several minutes for their eyes to readjust to the dark.

But this time, there was no dark.

A small flickering flame, perilously close to flickering out, shined from the tray.

A candle.

And this time, with their bread and pitcher of water, was a small flimsy plastic bucket with a lid on it. Stacked on top was two Styrofoam bowls with two plastic spoons sitting in them.

She could see them.

She looked at Tina, and for the first time in a long time, she could see the other girl.

Tina looked gaunt. She supposed she looked the same too.

In the dim candle light, it was beautiful. Tina was beautiful. Even their sad nest was beautiful.

Brittany reached over, and with trembling fingers, she opened the lid of the bucket slightly.

The smell of beef stew filled the room.

Mouth open, she stared at Tina.

Tina started laughing. Hysterically.

And all Brittany could do was stare at her.

Once she stopped, hiccupping slightly, and looked at Brittany.

Licking her lips -lips Brittany could now see, even as dim and small as their candle was, she whispered, "They want to break us. They want us to be grateful."

Brittany finally looked away from Tina, and back at the tray.

"They want us to be so happy when they finally let us out of here, and that they gave us light and something other then bread," she said slowly "That we won't be mad they stole us." She carefully pulled the lid the rest of the way off the bucket, then stared at Tina.

Tina nodded slowly, the other girl obviously enjoying not having to speak to communicate.

She started doling out the stew, spooning it carefully into the bowls, making sure to give them both an even amount of meat vegetables, and broth, as silently Tina started pulling the hunks of bread out of the loaf to go with their soup.

When every drop of stew was consumed from their bowls -and they had seconds, because Tina had quietly pointed out that the stew wouldn't keep down here like the bread did, so it was okay if they ate it over two or three days instead of making it last, Brittany said quietly, "We need to double our exercise time."

Tina nodded silently.

The stew, and candle, revived them more then their captors expected.

It gave them strength.

It gave them hope.

* * *

"No way," Tina said softly, "I know Santana is really….Santana like, but there's no way she said that to your mom."

"She did. Mom was upset, but she did apologize to me," Brittany grinned at Tina, "And our breaks over!"

"We're on pushups?" Tina asked, standing up, her long dress skimming the floor.

"Pushups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, then another break," Brittany replied, standing, clutching her own dress in one hand.

In the corner, their candle flickered. They were always careful not to go to close to it, out of fear they would accidentally put it out, since there was no way to relight it.

It had been 72.6 days.

1737 hours.

Tina was really close now to being able to throw Brittany up, while Brittany jumped, enough so that she could grab the ledge and pull herself up.

Really close.

Tina nodded, and with a serious look on her face, got into position for pushups. Brittany squatted almost perfectly near Tina's head, and put her closed fist down on the floor, so Tina knew she was going low enough by her forehead touching Brittany's fist.

Tina was on her second push up when the tell tale noise of metal scraping against metal hit their ears.

And terror filled Brittany, because it wasn't a day the door should be opening.

A blinding light filled the room.

Brittany's eyes hurt.

So she closed them, and a voice, the first voice she'd heard that wasn't Tina in 72.6 days, spoke.

* * *

"I wonder if we'll be able to find some review copies or something," Sam said seriously as he pushed the wheel barrel with the buckets in it. Rachel was pretty vocal about wanting to find metal buckets for their water, but the way Santana saw it, there was bigger things to worry about then possible chemicals leaching into the water from the plastic. Quinn -as totally whipped as she was, must have thought the same because they haven't made time for it yet, "I mean, we don't have a way to watch them or anything, but…I dunno, I was just really looking forward to seeing the show so they'd be nice to have just in case…one day..." he shrugged.

Blaine was pushing another wheel barrel next to Sam, and he nodded, "Maybe eventually we can have some sort of solar system set up, so if we did find some review copies of the episodes, we'd be able to watch them eventually."

Santana snorted, twirling her bat in her hands as she kept watch for any zombies, "We're living the zombie apocalypse, do we really need to watch the tv show?"

Blaine and Sam shared a look, then grinned at her and said, "Yes," at the same time. Sam added, "If we had a working dvd player and tv, would you turn down a Night of the Living Dead marathon?"

Instead of answering, Santana frowned as she stepped off the path through the park, and brandishing her bat, she raised it high above her head. Taking a deep breath, as the swollen male zombie looked at her hungrily, black fluid mingling with the fresh blood on it's face, she darted close enough to bring the bat down hard on it's knee, making it fall forward reaching out to her. Before it could stumble its way back up, she brought the bat down on it's head, hard, three times. She toed it with her boot, and waited a second.

Confident it was dead now, she muttered, "That's the fourth zombie so far, and that's not counting the ones on the road," she turning back to the boys, and smirked, "And you want to watch The Walking Dead? We're living the Walking Dead."

"Purely as an escapist fantasy, which is likely ironic given the circumstances," Blaine said, looking all around them before turning back to her. He opened his mouth to continue, but Santana shot him the look she'd trained him to realize meant 'Ugh you're sounding too much like Rachel' and he closed his mouth instead, and shook his head at her wordlessly, a small smile playing on his lips, his curls bouncing around. Sometimes he was so cute -even when he was as smelly and unwashed as the rest of them, that Santana just wanted to squish him.

She'd never admit that to anyone.

Well, maybe him. Quietly. After making him swear to never tell anyone.

And he wouldn't -because that was the type of guy he was.

"They've definitely been more active…" Sam mused, as he resumed pushing the wheelbarrow forward. Blaine took started pushing his wheel barrel, after brushing his curls out of his eyes.

"Well, that's why we're taking less trips and getting more water isn't it? Hell, that's why we haven't been out scavenging anywhere but nearby houses since the school," Santana wiped her bat off on a clean part of the zombies clothes -which wasn't actually that clean, but it'd do until she could clean it later.

Of course, that trip had been basically a bust -someone else had come in, killed all the kiddy zombies, and taken everything they could. All they had ended up with was a few cans of vegetables, and a few backpacks worth of the thin, harsh, cheap toilet paper that was barely better then no toilet paper at all.

They hadn't really seen much of Sludge or his family since, every few weeks or so Sludge would stop in on them, or they would on him if they were in the neighborhood, just to make sure everything was okay. Santana was pretty sure Rachel only put up with the neighborly gestures in case Casa De Sludge was wiped out and they could scavenge their stuff.

They hadn't been there in while though, because they hadn't been going out around there lately. Come to think of it, Sludge hadn't been by in a while either.

She didn't even have the sling with her so she didn't have to worry about getting it disguising, "Ugh it's February isn't it? In South Dakota. Where the hell is the snow?"

She knew it was February -Quinn's birthday had been on the first a few days ago. Santana's present had been a couple boxes of pink hair dye she'd secreted so the other girl could touch up her dye job. She had a few boxes of other colors too, and maybe one day she'd get out some hydrogen peroxide and give herself some unnatural color her parents or grandmother would have never been okay with. But maybe not.

She'd also found a monstrous looking dildo that she'd only touched with gloves -because ew, who knows how clean the previous owner had kept it, that she had put (on a piece of paper to avoid possible contamination) on Quinn's nightstand with a shiny silver bow from someone's Christmas stash.

Rachel had been the one to find it -that had been way way better then Quinn.

She grinned to herself remembering Rachel's face when she saw it. That was a memory she'd never forget. The dildo had gotten tossed somewhere far away from the building by Quinn. Neither Quinn or Rachel had been amused by Santana insisting it could be used as a weapon instead of thrown away.

"I think we should be grateful it's not snowing," Sam shrugged, "Sure, it's a hassle to get water, but it's not as cold as it could be if it was snowing…Not that we've had any rain anyway," his giant lips twisted up in a frown.

"Not that that hasn't stopped Rachel from putting pots and extra buckets on the fourth floor balcony, just in case. She checks them every morning," Blaine smiled softly.

"How's sharing a room with her going?" Sam asked, Blaine looked down the path, then nodded slightly.

"Fine? She's a perfect roommate, and doesn't mind the occasional time Dahlia wakes up in the middle of the night," he finally answered, "I keep telling her I can handle Dahlia but she insists on letting me sleep through the night when it happens."

"Well, give it a few more months and we'll be sharing a room while Rachel and Quinn shack up," Santana pointed out, grinning at him, "And your sister will be all yours then because like hell am I waking up in the middle of the night if she does. I needs me sleep."

"Won't it be a bit crowded with us, Dahlia, and Tiffany?" Blaine asked.

Santana snorted, "Please. Quinn and Rachel can have the smaller room, and we can keep Beth and Abby with us or something." A zombie stumbled out of the brush into the path in front of them.

"There's number five," Sam said, "You got it Santana?"

"Oh I gots it," she all but purred, as she darted ahead of them, her bat raised high. She was a few feet away when another zombie stumbled from the woods and joined the first.

"I'll be there in a second Santana," Blaine called and she slowed down to wait for him. Probably she didn't need to him to handle the other zombie, but eh, "better safe then sorry" was the new life motto now.

He had almost caught up to her when the woods went silent.

The birds stopped their chirping.

The squirrels stopped their chattering.

Even the occasional bark from the pack of dogs they'd only heard but had never actually was silenced.

This allowed them to hear the moans, the shuffling steps, and their own heart beats.

A surge of zombies seemed to press forward from the front and upper sides. It was just a matter of dumb luck there hadn't been any behind them besides the handful they'd already killed.

She stood still, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"Santana," Blaine whispered from slightly behind her, "Run."

She slammed the bat into the zombie she'd originally came up here to kill, and didn't hesitate. She turned, grabbed Blaine's hand with her free hand, and ran back towards Sam.

"What did you see?" Sam asked, wide eyed as he reached for his gun.

"A fuck load of zombies, that's what. We need to go back, now," Santana barked as they ran towards him.

"But the water?" Sam asked.

"Rachel's a planner. We have enough left for two days," Blaine said already panting slightly.

"Come on Sam!" Santana said pleadingly, as she and Blaine went past him.

Frowning, Sam stared at his wheel barrel, before sighing. Then he darted forward, and easily caught up with them.

Together, Santana still holding Blaine's hand -because knowing Blaine, he'd want to do something stupid like stay back to give them time to run, the trio ran like their lives depended on it.

Because it did.

A small, tiny part of her, wanted to let the zombies embrace her so she'd see Brittany again.

She figured that little voice telling her that was never going to ever go away. If she grew the ovaries to do so, someday she'd ask Blaine if he had that little voice telling him the same thing about Kurt.

* * *

"June, are you sure Mother meant for these two to join us as well?"

Brittany still had her eyes shut tightly from the light as a soft gentle voice said "Yes. Hello down there." A soft tumbling noise, then, "Please, if you can, climb up the ladder."

Tina's hand gripped her's, and together, they stumbled forward until they touched the ladder.

They let go, and Brittany was the first to put her hands on a rung.

With trembling fingers, her heart beating loudly in her head, seeming to block out all other noise, even the still encouraging voice.

Tentatively, she started climbing the rope ladder. It twisted and buckled under her until Tina's reassuring weight joined her on the ladder, stabilizing it.

She didn't dare open her eyes yet, even the light she could see through her eyelids was too much, especially as she climbed up and closer to the light.

She was trembling as she climbed.

From fear.

She was scared of the light. Scared of the women, especially of the one who kept saying nice and encouraging things to them as they climbed. She was scared about why they were letting Tina and her out of their captivity.

She was scared about what these people wanted from them.

And, if she was being honest, she was frustrated -she and Tina had been so close to escaping by themselves, and then all of a sudden they were allowed out.

Brittany wasn't stupid -she knew they wanted something from them.

They weren't going to get it.

With a burst of energy at the thought, she pulled herself up and over the cement ledge.

She laid on the ledge before sitting up. Feeling around carefully, and ignoring the voice and hand that kept trying to take hers, she scooted over to wait for Tina to finish climbing.

While she waited, she started lifting her eyelids up enough to see through her lashes.

Bright light blinded her, and she slammed them tightly shut.

"Brittany?" Tina asked, unsure and with a tremble of fear.

"Right here," Brittany said, and reached her hand out, patting the hard cement gently until she found Tina's hand grabbing the top most rung.

Tina grabbed her hand, and Brittany pulled her onto the ledge.

Neither girl let go once Tina was safely situated on the ledge, huddling together and waiting.

"Erica, get the ladder," the voice said, and Brittany found a hand touching the one that wasn't clutching Tina's, "I'm sure it's going to take a while for your eye's to adjust, so please take my hand so I may lead you."

"Wha…what are you going to do with us?" Tin asked softly, gripping Brittany's hands tighter.

"First, you will bathe. I've already placed clean clothing and combs for you in the bathroom. Then I am going to feed you. Then you and the other women in our community will attend the birth of the first child."

The woman gently led them -cautioning to stop over the doorway, Brittany felt bad because she knew she must have smelled bad, like Jacob Ben Israel's underwear and Lord Tubbington after he rolled in her dirty laundry then barfed on her pillow.

Finally, the woman stopped, "There is a complete change of clothing for each of you, a comb, hair ribbons, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. If you tell me your shoe sizes, when I return I'll have some for you, and socks. These are my father's room's. Please don't go into the bedroom, but you are welcome to enjoy the sitting area. I'll return for you in an hour…make that an hour and a half."

Mutedly, Brittany and Tina said their shoe sizes, and then the woman led them through the door. They moved across carpet that felt thick and plush to Brittany's toes, before the woman opened another door, and they were standing on tile.

"There's a shower and a bathtub, if you would prefer to not take turns," she showed each of them the knobs for each, and after making sure they could work it in their mostly blind state, stepped away from them.

Hesitation was clear in the woman's voice, she said, "I'm June. And, I'm very sorry." Then she -June, flicked off the light switch, making Brittany no longer able to see any light through her eyes, and then with a soft, "I'll be back in an hour and a half," and the door closed softly.

Neither girl spoke as they started undressing, until it became clear they'd need help with the buttons on their long nightgowns. After they were each standing naked, quietly, Tina said, "Brittany, work on your eyes. We need to be able to see."

Brittany nodded, then felt stupid because Tina couldn't see her yet, then said, "Okay. Do you want the bath or shower?"

"Don't care. You can take the shower, I guess, since you're closest to it."

They went silent again as they navigated their own way towards their tub or shower, and started working on the task of getting clean.

She was able to open her eyes for a few seconds at a time, and after finding the approximate locations of the shampoo and soap, and managed to get the shower working.

The water was hot.

She hadn't expected that.

She soaped up and rinsed her body five times before she felt clean enough to tackle her hair. That got shampooed three times, and conditioned four times.

Her teeth were gently brushed twice, then normally another two times. She scrubbed her tongue with the toothbrush, too.

She practiced opening her eyes for several seconds. Even in the dim light of the bathroom, it still took a while for her to keep her eyes open longer then two or three seconds.

She was pretty sure they'd need sunglasses when they went outside.

Tina stepped out of the sunken in tub, looking funny when Brittany looked at her through her eyelashes as she opened and closed her eyes, and wrapped a fluffy towel around herself as Brittany started tackling her hair. Still wet, Tina poked at the clothes that were still piled on the counter.

"Dresses," Tina said quietly, her eyes darting to the door, "We'll have to find something more practical."

It took a while for Brittany to completely comb all the knots out of her hair.

She couldn't stop running the comb through her hair, enjoying the feeling of being clean, of being able to actually comb her hair instead of their sad attempts at finger combing it.

Brittany set the comb down on the counter carefully, and swiftly, Brittany french braided her hair. When she was finished, without a word, Tina handed her one of the ribbons piled next to the clothes.

Brittany then dropped her towel, and turned towards Tina, "They have to have a car here. We'll find a truck that can handle the snow, or one of the snow mobiles." She stared at the dress she picked up -long sleeves, long skirt, heavy fabric. It wouldn't be easy to move in. She pulled it on anyway, because it was better then wearing a towel. And she wouldn't touch the long wool nightgown she'd been wearing again.

Or her socks. She'd already tossed her underwear away in their potty bucket 68 days ago, because she was scared that keeping them on for too long would make her lady parts rot away. "Or we'll put a snow mobile on the truck then use that when the truck can't go anymore."

Tina nodded, and started pulling on the other dress. There was two pairs of underwear folded neatly under her dress, and she handed Brittany one of them.

Another long second of staring at the plain white cotton underwear, before Brittany finally pulled them on. "No bra?"

"No." Tina finished shimmying into the dress, then turned to Brittany, "We should switch dresses."

Brittany looked at the bottom of the dress polling around Tina's feet, then at her own dress, whose hem barely skimmed her shins. "Okay."

They would definitely need to stop somewhere and find some sports bras. Maybe they could find a lady footlocker. A lady footlocker next to a winter clothing store.

Tina's hair was longer then Brittany's, and they barely managed to get it separated into two sections, -each of them tackling a section with a comb.

Finally, with two more applications of conditioner, they managed to get it combed out and braided into two braids, with only minable mumbling from Tina about cutting it all off.

Brittany's eyes didn't hurt so much any more, and she realized just how different looking Tina was.

They both looked sharp, and angled. Like something had taken away all their softness with their happiness.

Then again, she wasn't looking so good either. Even Coach Sue, who demanded they be really skinny, would have barked at them to eat something, because they needed to feed their muscles. Despite their exercising, Brittany didn't feel as strong as she was before the zombies.

But maybe a part of that lack of strength was being separated from Santana, from Tiffany, from Quinn, from the others.

Pocketing the combs, toothbrushes, extra ribbons, and toothpaste in the large, and deep pockets of the dresses, they turned towards the door.

"Maybe we can sharpen our toothbrushes. Like in prison. A shift."

It was a shiv. Santana had them marathon Oz last summer after Quinn gave away Beth. Brittany had thought at first it was the Wizard of Oz, and she'd been really confused for a couple of episodes.

Tina didn't correct her, just licked her lips, stared at the door, and nodded, "If we don't find anything better that's a good idea."

She liked that Tina didn't correct her when she used a word wrong. So she hardly did it anymore. On purpose, anyway. Sometimes she did it on accident, from being so used to doing it on purpose it was a habit, or because she genuinely got the word wrong.

She reached a hand out to Tina, who took it.

Gripping each other's hand's tightly, Brittany opened the bathroom door.

The light from the windows hurt her eyes.

The plan once they left their cellar, or whatever it was, had been simple.

Go out the door.

Find whatever looked at all useful.

Leave.

Return to the others.

Kill anyone who got in their way if needed, otherwise just hide and avoid people.

Brittany really hoped they wouldn't have to kill anyone. She had had nightmares about the lady she'd killed.

She didn't anymore by the time a week had passed. She was pretty sure her brain and soul considered it enough of a punishment that God would still let her into kitty heaven. (Everyone knew kitty heaven was better then people heaven.)

Tina stepped forward and opened the bathroom door.

Light hit them as they walked through the doorway.

"My eyes hurt," Tina sighed.

"Mine too. Just keep opening them a little bit at a time. Eventually they'll get used to the light."

Of course their eyes hurt. But it felt so nice to be able to complain about it that it probably wasn't the last time one of them would mention it.

"I hope we can find some sunglasses."

"Me too."

It took nine minutes for Brittany to keep her eyes open all the way without having to close them. Tina took a minute longer.

The room they were in now was lush and full of soft fabrics, and nice things.

Brittany wanted to touch everything.

There wasn't time though.

"It's been 57 minutes," she whispered because she knew Tina was going to ask soon.

Tina nodded, then pointed at the door closest to them, "I'm pretty sure that's the bedroom."

"We should check it first -there's not much worth taking in here, but maybe there's blankets and pants in there."

Tina stepped forward, and picked up a heavy looking brass lamp. She knocked the shade off, and tested the weight in her hand experimentally, and was turning back towards Brittany when she stopped.

"Brittany…" she whispered, "Brittany look at the window. I know it hurts, but look."

Shading her eyes with her freehand, Brittany turned and looked.

There was no snow.

No torrents of rain pounding the ground.

Just foggy day that screamed the sun would be out in a few more hours.

"Brittany…Brittany are you sure it's only been 72 days? Because…." Tina trailed off, and both of them blinking quickly, because staring directly out the window was for them, like staring at the sun right now, they stood there.

Could she be wrong?

It was possible…the numbers were usually reliable, but she had to sleep, and it was dark all the time so that could have thrown the numbers off.

"I…think I'm right," she finally said, slowly puzzling out each word as they stared outside.

"We…we might not find them," Tina said, "It might be too late, they could have moved on..."

Brittany considered that for a moment, then shook her head, "I don't think Santana would let them leave, or go with them if they did. She'll be there. She'll know where they went, and we can meet up."

Tina stared at her, then finally nodded, "You're right. About Santana, anyway. I don't know if we'd be able to meet the others, but Santana will definitely be there..." Then she sighed, a pained sad sigh. "I don't think Mike would be waiting for me.." She said softly as they stepped into the bedroom. "We would have ended up breaking up eventually because he was going off to college and I was still going to be in Lima. Long distant relationships are hard, even harder when one of the people is a college freshman."

They had had this conversation before.

Brittany always stuck up for Mike, and this time was no different. She made the usual reassuring words to Tina as she gazed around the bedroom.

She didn't know if Mike and Tina would have lasted for the long haul. If they were soulmates, destined to tell the story of how they, goth girl and jock, met in a glee club during their 50th wedding anniversary to their grand children who had heard the story 712 times before already.

But she did know that Tina needed to be assured that they were, and they would have, even if Tina maybe didn't believe it herself. Because Mike was dead, Tina was sad and missing Mike was easier then missing her parents.

The bedroom was just as lavish and filled with plush antique furniture as the other room had been.

Tina was once more assured, so the conversation had trailed off until she nodded at the door across the bed. "Probably the closet."

"I hope there's pants," Brittany sighed as she started rummaging through the carefully piled throw pillows, trying to find the actual sleeping bed pillows.

"Ahaha!" Tina, who had opened the closet doors and was tossing things out of it, mostly weird looking suits, grinned at her, then resumed her search.

Brittany pulled the soft white pillowcases off the extra huge pillows, and tossed one over her shoulder, Santa style.

Perfect for carrying anything they needed.

She emptied her pockets out into one pillowcase, then quickly searched through the mass of blankets on the bed, finally taking three, and folding them hotdog wise. They could carry them easily on their shoulders if they needed to that way, even if it'd be a bit bulky.

Tina was started to make frustrated sounds, so Brittany quickly put their new possessions to the side, and searched the end table's drawer.

14 thick white pillar candles, matches, a huge bottle of lubricant, a funky looking leather book, a prescription bottle and a dagger in a white leather holder.

Kinda weird, but useful for them.

She grinned, taking the candles, matches, and dagger, and placing them in the pillow case. The prescription was for Viagra, and she tossed it back into the drawer, disappointed it wasn't something useful. If it had been a tiny bottle instead of the huge bottle she might have kept it incase there was something squeaky they needed to quiet down.

The other end table was a simple one with shelfs, so she didn't even bother looking at the books stacked neatly in it.

"Anything good?" She quietly asked Tina as she stepped on the plush carpet to stand next to the open closet doors, before realizing it was a walk in closet so she joined Tina.

"Maybe a couple of heavy wool coats and sweaters. Everything's huge, so maybe not. Definitely socks though," Tina said, stepping from the hanging clothes to look at Brittany, "And a whole lot of suits."

"We can belt the sweaters, and wearing them, then the coats should be okay enough to make it work. I found a dagger and candles in the nightstand, we can cut sleeves if they get in the way." Brittany was standing next to the belt holder, and selected two, "I'll probably have to more poke holes in these."

Whoever -June's father was, he was a very large man. Or is. For all they knew he was rattling around somewhere and going to be upset they were in his bedroom.

"Last rack of clothes, then we can go," Tina said, shoving aside more suits, "I think I'll just sto- hey there's a safe."

She tugged at the handle, and looked shocked when it opened.

"Guess he didn't want to remember the combination," she muttered, squatting down to look inside. From where she was standing, Brittany couldn't even see the safe, but when Tina told her to look, she quickly stood next to Tina's side, then squatted down next to her.

There were large stacks of money, and several stuffed looking manila envelope. But that wasn't important, and wasn't what had caught Tina's attention.

A gun -it looked like Quinn's did, and one half full box of ammo.

"Do you want to carry it?" Tina asked.

Brittany had a funny, weird feeling in her stomach.

"Gun's are mean and I don't like them," Brittany shook her head.

"I'll take it then," Tina said, carefully hefting the gun into her hands, testing the weight.

They busied themselves with donning a sweater, belting it, then pulling of the jackets on over it. Tina found several hand knitted scarfs, and they both donned one. Brittany had a pretty grey and purple one that looked like it had been hanging in the closet since it was made, while Tina had an extra long solid black scarf.

After making sure no one could see the gun in one dress pocket, or the box of bullets in Tina's other dress pocket through the sweater or coat, Tina helped Brittany put the dagger sheath on the belt in the small of her back, covered by her own sweater and coat.

They both pulled on as many pairs of socks they could fit; Brittany was wearing seven, and they were so soft between them and the plush carpeting, it felt like she was walking on clouds.

Tina grabbed the brass lamp again, and after Brittany grabbed a shiny old timey looking fire poker near the fire place, Tina put two of the blankets on her shoulders, Brittany grabbed the other as well as their pillow cases.

They stood in front of the window.

"We should find the kitchen, and get some water," Tina nodded at the fields, "Who knows how far we're going to be from water or food."

Brittany nodded, "And sunglasses. But we should be fast, June's coming back in 4 minutes."

Tina swung the lamp base, and frowned, "We could wait for her, and make sure she can't send out a warning?"

"We could tie her up with the cord?" Brittany didn't want to hurt her -because June had told them she was sorry.

Saying sorry was a nice thing to do.

Tina frowned again, and swung the lamp base around, then nodded, "If she cooperates, we can tie her up."

"Two minutes. We should hide behind the door or something, so we can surprise her," Just as they moved to do just that, the door opened.

June stepped into the room quickly, and quietly closed and locked it behind her. Then she saw the two of them -arrayed up in her father's clothing, blankets and pillow cases and weapons.

She held Brittany's motocross boots, Tina's thick soled boots, and two pairs of socks in her arms.

She stood there, staring at them open mouthed, for a second. Then she swallowed heavily, and managed to gasp out, "I asked you not to enter my father's rooms."

"You kept us locked in a cellar for 72 days," Tina hissed out, "In the dark. Of course we're going to take what we can and get away. And we won't hurt you if you sit down, and let us tie you up."

"Hurt me," June took several deep breaths, "You weren't supposed to leave the Welcome Room for another four weeks. But An-Orchid is giving birth, and Mother wanted all women present for it. I...Orchid wanted me to select among the women who she thought would be strongest, because...we're going to leave here. And I spoke to some of the other's who brought you in, they all said that you had supplies with you, weapons. You had to be strong to survive just the three of you. And...I think I was right, looking at you right now."

"Welcome Room? What the hell is wrong with this place, with you?" Tina hissed again.

June swallowed, and stepped forward a few feet to put their shoes down. Brittany wasted no time, and stepped forward to grab her motocross boots, caressing the battered boots, and picking them, and a pair of the thick, long, hand knit socks. She sat down, and immediately started pulling the seven pairs of thin socks off.

"This is the Celestial Gate Ranch. 1,200 acres of heavily blessing. Here, my father and his disciples live with their wives and children and work to-" June immediately rattled off, obviously having the spiel memorized. Brittany paused in pulling on a sock, and wondered how many times she'd been forced to say that.

"Stop. That sounds familiar..." Tina interrupted her, and concentrated for a minute, then finally glared at June, "I remember now -it was on the news in the summer. The Celestial Gate cult. You were in the news because the kids were taken away because a bunch of the men were having sex with them."

June flinched, "A few of my father's disciples legally married, they had permission which makes it legal, some of the women. If you're old enough to have your monthlys, then you're a women. The government has been constantly hassling us since before I was born, and they somehow got wind of it. They kidnapped our children -including my sons."

"I'm pretty sure one of those "women" was nine freaking years old," Tina spat, raising her lamp base.

June stepped back, and shook her head, "I'm sorry, Orchid has been trying to help me, but it's been difficult going against what I've been taught my entire life. Of course they weren't women -they were children, and what those men did was wrong. My father was wrong. Mother is wrong. And I pray every day they are safe, even if I expect to never see my sons again."

June looked ready to burst into tears, and Tina still had the lamp base raised. Double checking her boots were on correctly, and adjusted, Brittany stood up. "How old were your sons? "

June smiled a sad smile, "Seven, five, three, and almost one."

"And how old are you," Tina asked curtly, putting the lamp base down.

June took a deep breath, "I will be twenty one in June."

"So you were what, thirteen when you got pregnant?"

June nodded, "As my father's eldest daughter, he picked my husband. George Zabor the First. I was his third wife. My eldest son was his first son," June gently flipped the dark auburn braid to her back, and tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear.

"Who's Orchid?"

"She...is...was...an FBI agent. She was placed in the Welcome Room by my father and some of the others."

"And she's having a baby?" Brittany asked.

The welcome room was a bad name for the hole. Brittany can't even imagine how awful it would have been to be in it by yourself.

June nodded, "Her child will be the first baby born here since the children were kidnapped. It's supposed to be a celebration, and that's how I was able to take you out of the...Welcome...Room. Once more, I'm so sorry about that, mother has been insistent we maintain many activity's we did before the demons set out to cleanse the world. "

"Aren't they going to notice?" Tina asked dryly.

June shook her head, "The demons have been near us, and active, so a portion of Mother's attention is on them. And no one will argue with me when I point out that Mother said all women must be present. Of course, we'll have to hide," She gestured at their sweaters and other loot, "with the rest of the supplies I've secreted away, otherwise someone might mention it to Mother."

"Demons? You mean zombies?"

June looked confused, "Zombies? Orchid and some of the other's have mentioned that word, but no one has explained?"

"Yeah, zombies. Night of the living dead. George Romero. Brainnnnnssss," Brittany said, mimicking the standard zombie walk and moan.

June shook her head, "Mother and most of the others just refer to them as demons. All I really know about them is that they are dangerous."

"Really dangerous." Tina muttered, "If we're leaving here, we'll teach you about them." Then she shot a look at Brittany. Brittany had no idea what it meant, maybe they'd stick around with June, or maybe they'd separate from them as soon as they were able. She'd just have to wait and see what happened. She kinda liked the idea of staying with June, Orchid, and who ever else was leaving with them. Even in all their planning on what they'd do after they escaped their hole, Brittany had been kinda scared about just the two of them alone.

June nodded, "Very well. Let's remove anything that will alert suspicions, and get you fed. Then I'll introduce you to Orchid."

"When are we escaping?" Tina asked.

"After the baby is born -everyone will be the most distracted then. It shouldn't be much longer."

"It's not a good idea to bring a baby out there," Brittany frowned, feeling sad at the thought.

June stiffened, then sighed, "Orchid is most insistent that she does not want to have my father's child. He or she will be left here with Mother and the other women, who will take care of them."

"I don't blame her," Tina muttered, staring down at her own stomach and shaking her head.

Brittany was still a little sad, especially at the thought of leaving a baby behind, but it was Orchid's choice.

Brittany was glad she didn't have to make the same choice. She opened her mouth to ask why June's father hadn't visited them down in the hole either, but just then June opened the door, and the bright florescent lights in the hallway made her eyes water, and ache, the question dying before it was born.

* * *

A/N: Why indeed Brittany, why indeed? ;)

Part One. I had to edit this on my phone, so I'm not quite happy with it, but I'll go back and fix it later.

This chapter was originally meant to be much much longer, ending with a reunion, but my laptop's keyboard went "blurrrp beep boop blarp" after my cat knocked over sweet tea on it. This is what I had saved to my dropbox (always keep backups! And uh, update your backups regularly, my bad,) so I decided I'll update this now since you guys have been waiting patiently since late January instead of making you wait until it's done being repaired and back to me. I had midterms, which is why this didn't get up in January in the first place! Sorry! But I got all A's hah.

Chapter 33 -God's Gonna Cut You Down Part 2 will be up hopefully before February's over (depending on how long that fix takes), and I'll try to get chapter 34, and 35 maybe even up too.

I have so so many plans for C32 Part 2 and I'll try my best to retype out the next draft of the rest of 32 on my phone, so that when I get my laptop back I can just dropbox it on there, give it another edit, and post it ASAP. Or if I finish it sooner then I get my laptop back, I'll just borrow my friend's laptop like I did to post this (but it would be nice to be able to crosscheck everything with my notes to make sure I get things like dates and names right). I'll also work on flushing out the outline for chapter 33 (I'll just use stand-ins for things I'll need my notes on, hah) so that I can get it up ASAP after 32 part two. Reviews will totally help me get through the hassle of typing on my phone. ;)

There's over an estimated 5,000 cults in the United States right now, and this one has obviously been operating for over twenty years, so they've got things down pat on the cultyness. Poor June's going to have to work reallly hard to get out of that mindset, not to mention she and the other's born and raised on the ranch have no idea about things like zombie clichés. And "Orchid" doesn't realize just how damn dangerous the world's gotten since she was kidnapped.


	33. Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)

Rachel never looked at him like Eva does -like he held all the answers and knew just what to do.

Like he was smart.

Eva never talks down to him, or over him, she doesn't nag, she isn't bossy, and she never makes him feel like he's stupid.

Eva can't carry a tune at all, she's a worst dancer then he is, she's not just the right height to fit against him like Rachel did and sometimes it irritates him that she lets him take the lead all the time -don't get him wrong, it's nice, but sometimes it'd be nice too if she took charge every once in a while.

Eva's different then any of the girl's he's dated.

She's also a few months pregnant.

He didn't mean to sleep with her. He was still waiting on Rachel to come back, but Eva was there and willing and -well.

It happened.

And it was really scary to know that in a few more months, he was going to be a dad.

For _real_ this time.

Last time, he'd been worried about money and Quinn hadn't want to be stuck in Lima and then he got Quinn kicked out and yeah.

He'd still rather be dealing with all that, instead of zombies.

Sometimes he wishes Puck was alive, because Puck would have left with them -probably with Beth, and they could be awesome dads together.

Plus it would have been nice just for one familiar face; someone who knew about Breadstix and Mr. Schue.

Eva seemed to be a little more calm about having a baby then he was -probably because they'd gotten married before they'd left the cabin. And partly because she assumed he would have found them a home, a safe forever home, before the baby was born or Eva was too pregnant to do much.

They'd left the cabin with nothing more then a backpack each -and seven other people, and two kids, with them.

Sometimes he wished he'd gone with Rachel and the other's.

He felt kinda weird he missed Kurt more then Rachel -but he kinda figured it was because he had Eva.

And he felt bad about letting Sarah go with them.

Terri, too. She would have had Mr. Schue's baby by now -he hoped she and the baby were okay.

If there was a heaven, Puck was probably chilling with Cheesus and pissed off Finn had passed responsibility of Puck's little sister to someone else.

He hoped they were all okay.

Even Santana.

They'd been on their own, just Finn, Eva, and now four others (two had died, and Rhett had gone crazy and ran into a swarm of zombies. Finn liked to think he was still alive -he was a good guy).

Five people, a baby on the way, and two kids.

Everyone looking at Finn as the leader.

He leaned over, feeling their expectant eyes on him, and he pointed to a name on the map. "The last time we got a radio message, it said Fort Drum was still running. So that's where we're heading."

He liked playing the drums. He figured the Fort being named Drum was a sign.

"And who's to say the undead haven't wiped it off the map, it's been a month?" Eric, a guy who was around Finn's age asked. Well, he was a few years older, but Finn felt really mature right now, since he was a real father and a husband now, so they were basically the same age.

Finn shrugged, "Do you have any other suggestions?"

"We could head north? Up to Alaska?" Eric's mom suggested softly.

She was too soft-spoken to remind Finn of his mom, and Finn was grateful for that.

Eva shook her head, "If we go, it won't be till mid-spring at the earliest. We can't risk the weather deciding to act normal while we're enroute. It might be nice enough weather now, but that could change at any time."

"There's also your baby to consider Mrs. Hudson," William, an older gentleman said. It made Eva blush prettily, and Finn felt a little surge of pride at how she blushed every time William called her Mrs. Hudson.

"That's another reason we're going to the base," Finn stood up a little straighter, "We'll find a safe place to hole up in. Then we'll take our time, and gather what we'll need to make the trip in one long shot. It's over, " he looked at the map, and frowned, as he tried to eyeball the distance, "400 miles? Away. The only thing we want to have to stop for is bathroom breaks and water. But I'd prefer it if we could find water so we won't have to worry about it. We can do that in a month maybe? Less if we can find a working car?"

"Better plan then any of us got," William nodded, "Could knock that out in a week if we find a working car and fuel."

"It's closer then Alaska at least," Eric grumbled, "But that's over ten miles a day. Kids aren't going to be able to do that. And we haven't exactly made a lot of progress so far have we? We're still in Ohio."

The kids were Alice's -they were six and ten. Alice and the kids were still eating their breakfast in a corner of the room, Alice telling them a fairy-tale tiredly, trying to keep them quiet.

Finn shrugged, "We'll find a wagon or a shopping cart or something. Actually, yeah, shopping carts would be a good idea to carry supplies in and stuff too." It wasn't his fault they were still in Ohio, six weeks after leaving the cabin. He didn't control the zombies.

Would be cool -and a lot easier, if he could though.

"We can oil the wheels so they won't make a lot of noise," William mused.

As they started discussing plastic verses metal shopping carts, Finn wondered suddenly, if Kurt and Blaine were okay.

He missed Kurt. A lot.

Sometimes he dreamed about his mom berating him for letting Kurt go, for not even really trying to see things from Kurt's point of view or go with them.

It was kinda nice, because he could see his mom again. And he totally deserved to be berated about Kurt. Kurt was his brother, and he'd just let him go off without him.

He'd already asked Eva if the baby was a girl they could name her Carole Elizabeth.

If the baby was a boy, he wanted his middle name to be Kurt.

Either way, Finn was going to do better -be better, this time.

* * *

She crept carefully through the halls, pausing and holding her breath every time she thought she heard a sound or saw a particularly long shadow.

Finally, several long minutes later, she stood in front of the door.

Out of habit -and not expecting anything different, she tried to open it.

Still locked.

She pulled the screwdriver out of her hoodie pocket, and started working at the hinges.

An idea that had come to her last night.

The screws were too big for her screw driver, she'd have to find a different one.

Frustrated, she shoved the screwdriver back into her hoodie's pocket, and kicked the door.

Then she glared at it, a pout playing on her lips. The silent shadow standing next to her loudly inhaled.

The tall metal door stood there, foreboding and unlockable and keeping her stuck in here.

Just like it had for the last four months no matter how much she prayed, or begged Mr. Motta.

"Why do you keep doing this every day Mercedes?" Sugar finally asked, unable to keep quiet any longer, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "Daddy's been really clear that the door isn't opening until October 1st, 2012."

Mercedes turned, and glared at Sugar instead.

"Look, I don't care that we're in your dad's underground bunker Sugar," Mercedes grit her teeth, "_I want to see my family!_"

They'd been at the mall when weird stuff started happening. Sugar's dad had a car pulled up the front of the building by the time they'd decided the sales weren't worth sticking around for. She'd managed to call her parents, to tell them they were okay and she would meet them at home, or if the traffic was too bad at the cabin the next day. Her mom had promised to pack her suitcase.

Instead of dropping her off at her house, Sugar's dad had taken her to the Motta manor. And naturally, because Sugar's dad was that rich and a little crazy, there was a freaking underground fortress of a bunker on the property.

She'd managed a text as they were herded into the bunker telling her mom that, well, she was being herded into a bunker for safety but she'd get out and get to them as soon as she could

A bunker that she'd been locked in for over four months.

"The door isn't opening for eight months. Do you want to go see if Lou is busy? He's totally got a crush on you. I don't know why, I'm hotter. Sorry."

Mercedes took a few deep calming breaths, "I'm dating Shane, Sugar. I'm not interested. Can I talk to your dad myself? It'll take four minutes to open the door, let me out, and relock it."

"Daddy's busy Mercedes. I only get to see him twice a week. And Shane's probably a zombie by now, he-"

"I know you aren't bad mouthing my bae," Mercedes growled.

"Sorry, but Shane's on my "Probably dead" list."

Of course Sugar had a "Probably Dead" list. And of course she'd tell Mercedes.

Curiosity hit her, so she sighed, and asked, "Who else is on it?" She leaned against the wall, slouching forward in a way that would have made her Grandma smack her arm.

"Rachel Berry is number one on the list. Because I think she'd try to sing at a zombie, intending on enchanting it with her voice, and it'd eat her."

Over four months of straight Sugar, and bless her heart, Mercedes was more then ready to leave and face the outside world, no matter how bad it was on the way to her family's cabin.

"Let's just finish this season of The Wire Sugar," she sighed again. She wanted a nap, and attributed that to lack of food with too much activity.

Mr. Motta had packed enough food for an army down here, but even so enforced a strict calorie allotment depending on need and work load.

Mercedes job was officially "Sugar's Companion" so she got enough plus a few extra hundred.

She was losing her curves.

And while a part of her -that tiny low self esteemed part of her that had always wanted to be pretty with good hair and a tiny waist, was thrilled -the rest of her was annoyed at yet another thing out of her control in her life.

She just wanted the door open for a measly minute.

And being "Sugar's Companion" made her feel like her great great great grandma -a slave who was given to her Master's daughter when the daughter reached 15 as a lady's maid.

A feeling that make the hair on the back of her neck tingle; it wasn't helped by the fact that she was definitely in the minority here. There were three non white families (Mr. Motta's housekeeper, maid, and gardener, and their families), but other then that it was all white people all the way. She had never felt like such a minority before.

Sugar nodded, but kept babbling about her "Probably Dead" list as they started walking down the hallway towards their rooms. They each had an admittedly nice room with a shared bathroom.

There was always tomorrow.

Eventually she'd figure out how to get out of here; it wouldn't be a year. It couldn't. God wouldn't allow that to happen to her.

Then she'd get to the cabin and finally see her family.

Frankly she was surprised her mom hadn't clawed open the door from the outside to get to her by now. Maybe she'd tried and no one had told her that her mom starred on the cameras.

Hell maybe Mr. Motta had even spoke to her mom when her mom and big brother tried to get her.

She was definitely going to find a way to talk to Mr. Motta. Or just check out his Ipad that was connected to all the cameras. Or maybe she'd find his big ring of keys that unlocked everything.

"And Santana. She's definitely on my list," Sugar was saying, which interrupted Mercedes from her musings.

"Santana? Hell to the no." Mercedes raised an eyebrow -a habit she'd picked up from those couple of months Quinn had lived with them.

Sugar nodded, "Santana. Brittany's on my "Awesome and Totally Alive" list though. The other two people on it are me and you."

She prayed for Quinn a lot.

And Beth too, that the toddler was safe wherever she and Shelby were.

She prayed for them all, the glee kids, the Cheerios, all the students and teachers at their school, the people at her church, their neighbors, even her online friend in Canada, every night.

She didn't pray for her family, because she knew they were fine. The cabin was the safest place they could be at besides, well, the bunker Mercedes was currently stuck in.

* * *

_He had been waiting for something like this practically his whole life. Zombie movies, spending most his blog advertising money and allowance on MREs, specialized weapons, solar chargers for his laptop and camera, boot camp classes every Saturday (partly for the end of the world, partly so Rachel Berry would be impressed when she finally agreed to be his, and saw him naked for the first time. He was all hard muscle underneath his sweaters, unlike flabby Finn Hudson. A point he took satisfaction in.)_

_School that first day had been weird. The ride home stepped up the weirdness though._

_The bus driver (his station wagon needed some work, so he was stuck on the bus) had freaked out when the usual country music station he normally forced them to listen to had changed to a repeated message telling everyone to go to then nearest military base or stay home._

_The bus driver had passed over one stop completely when there were people eating other people on the lawn near the stop. Jacob had made sure the catch that with his camera, and the freshman girls reaction who's stop it was. He had tried to interview her, to find out if she knew the family being eaten, or the eaters and the girl's friend had knocked the camera from his hands. _

_It was alright, thankfully. _

_He was excited. _

_His neighborhood was full of families carefully packing cars, and there was a worried silence over it, as if collectively the neighborhood had decided that too much noise would attract the undead._

_For all he knew, it might. _

_His mom's car was in the driveway, locked and unpacked. _

_He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut, told himself that his mom was just waiting for him to get home. _

_He entered the house carefully, locking the door behind him, and pushing the ridiculous end table in front of it for good measure._

_He called out softly for his mom, then went on a methodical search room by room, which didn't take long since their house was small._

_He found his mom in her bedroom, curled up under the covers. _

_She wasn't sleeping._

_Jacob,_

_Honey I'm so sorry. I got a call this morning saying they were suspending all transplants for the foreseeable future, then later the news starting saying some horrible things, showing some horrible things…there's just no way I'll be able to get dialysis at a Military Base, for not as long as I'll need; let alone a transplant. _

_I love you so so much. Please live, survive, thrive, and have lots of grandbabies for me and your father to watch over. Here are some pictures for you to take with you, and my ring to give to some lucky girl who loves you as much as you love her._

_Love, Mom_

_She had put a manila envelope full of photos for him, and her wedding ring._

_It took him a few hours to dig a hole for her, and another hour to pack up everything and load her car._

_He didn't know where to go, so started driving, vaguely thinking about continuing his documentary. _

_Before he knew it, he was driving slowly, watching for what he didn't know, when Finn Hudson's mom was flagging him down as he drove past their house._

_"Jacob honey, where's your mom? I was going to invite her and you to join us?" Mrs. Hudson had known his mom since high school, they were friends. _

_Finn and him were definitely not friends._

_"She got a call this morning, all transplants were being suspended…then with then news and everything, I found her after school…she had taken a ton of pills.." He managed. The logically, reporter side of him knew he must be in shock._

_"Oh honey, I'm so so sorry. You'll stay with us, okay? Come out and help up pack, with three people it'll go by faster. Finn's convinced one of those things is going to jump out, but our area seems fairly safe."_

_He did. He ignored the look of confusion and annoyance on Finn's face, and helped cart boxes of food from their pantry into the back of Mrs. Hudson's car._

_It wasn't until he was following behind Mrs. Hudson's car to some rest stop that he started crying._

He ran a hand over his shaved head, and stared at the spot he needed, pushing the thoughts of the past away.

The other hand was holding steady the large, bulky early 90's camera. Not for the first time, he wished he had gone with Finn.

But ultimately, he was a coward and the thought of being out there with the zombies had been worse then being here. To a point, anyway.

That point had passed a while ago.

In all the zombie movies, or even the end of the world movies -you never saw the villains rise to power. How did they end up in a castle with the heads of their enemies on pikes?

Jacob had enough for ten movies.

Too bad no one would see any of it.

He caught eyes with Naomi, and she looked at him worriedly.

It figures it took the zombie apocalypse to find a girl who honesty liked him.

Ms. Pillsbury's ghost had seemed to lurk around him…slowly as time had passed she didn't show up so often.

The guilt still lingered.

But he knew how he could make up for taking someone so good in the world out of it -especially when the world needed good people.

He'd take out a bad person.

And Frannie Harris was bad.

She'd seemed to go bat shit crazy as soon as Finn had explained what had happened with Rachel and the other's -and then she'd found two of her kids missing.

And she'd gotten even worse since then.

Lately there'd been mutterings of a _culling_ of people who didn't _believe_ enough, because their food supplies were dangerously low.

Instead of just sending people further, or making the garden's bigger.

Jacob had no doubts Frannie would be who decided who was culled.

It was about control.

He didn't even want to think about what she had done when she had given birth, then found out the baby was a girl.

"Jacob," Naomi whispered, "Please. We can just leave."

He shook his head. "We can leave. But I have to do this first…I have to."

He looked at her -a beautiful girl who liked him, maybe even loved him. Then his eyes darted to Ms. Pillsbury's see through form, standing just next to Naomi.

There was so much blood, so vibrant even as it was ghostly.

It blended in with her hair.

He swallowed, and handed Naomi the camera.

He knew ghosts weren't real; this was just his guilt manifesting itself.

That didn't help much to know though.

Every morning right around dawn Frannie got up and did yoga in a clearing by the pond.

It was the only time she was alone.

The only time she was venerable.

As he watched her start coming closer and closer, he silently handed the camera to Naomi. Tears in her eyes, she took it.

He crept from their hiding place, and moved to the bush he'd already prepared for him to hide now, much much closer to where Frannie stood and did her yoga, holding his breath.

Finally once Frannie was in place, he allowed himself shallow breaths waiting at the ready for the time he was going to strike.

If he lived through this, if he didn't get caught, if they were able to get away -and survived what was outside their little "safe" haven with what Naomi had been able to secret away from the kitchens, and their own things, he'd give Naomi his mom's ring.

It wasn't much -but it was all he had. He couldn't even offer her safety, or more then a couple half loafs of bread.

Finally, Frannie sat with her legs crossed, meditating.

He stepped forward, and before she could even react at the noise of him stepping away from the bush, before she could turn around and see him standing behind her, he ran the kitchen knife across her throat.

She fell to the side, blood pooling around her.

Naomi stepped out of her hiding place, the camera at her shoulder.

He dropped the knife, and stared at the camera, at the red light.

"I don't know who's going to see this; if you're going to understand, if you're going to bother to watch the little documentary she wanted me to make. She wanted me filming, she knew I was watching and she…she did everything, all that,_ anyway,_" he swallowed, and felt the sweat start to pool at his brow despite the chilly early morning air, "But she…she was a bad person. And she had to die. I…" he swallowed again, and had to stop himself from looking at the ghostly, ghastly, Ms. Pillsbury's form, "I took a good person out of the world. So I had to take a bad one out. I'm…sorry I had to do it. But hopefully I saved someone."

Naomi set the camera down, and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him.

He let them stay like that for half a second, before he pulled away.

"We need to go."

She was frightened, he could tell, but she nodded.

They gathered their backpacks, and started walking through the woods.

He'd already figured out the best way for them to get away. Hopefully Frannie's body wouldn't be discovered in enough time for them to get well enough away. And by going through the woods, they could hopefully avoid the zombies had been creeping up the road towards the cabin lately.

Ms. Pillsbury's ghost was gone.

* * *

When he was doing a mindless task -like peeling potatoes, which he was doing right now, it was really easy to let his mind wander.

He'd stopped wondering about the rest of the New Directions months ago -either they were dead, or they weren't, but there was no way he'd ever find out anytime soon, if at all.

He liked to think that they were all alive, hiding somewhere safe with Mr. Schue and their families.

He refused to think about any of them being one of those things -even when, late at night, and he couldn't sleep, he'd think about what a zombie version of himself would look like.

Dragging himself along the ground because even then his legs wouldn't work.

His glasses had broken a few weeks ago, and replacing them wasn't exactly a high priority, so that was that.

His mom kept apologizing, every time she caught him squinting at something trying to make it out clearly, for not grabbing any of his spares.

His dad was really busy with his duties around the base, but had finally noticed that his wheelchair bound son had yet another handicap and promised that they would figure something out.

It wasn't like he expected anyone to drive back to Ohio or anything to grab his spares.

Things were weird between his parents, and he was pretty sure they'd get back together at some point. It wasn't like there were a lot of options, and his dad _had_ personally driven to Ohio to get them. It wasn't like they'd divorced because they hated each other.

When he wasn't doing the mindless background tasks that kept everything running, he was rolling around where he could with a video camera.

It was important to document this. To have some hope that there were going to be future generations who would want to know what it was like.

She stood in the doorway, a blurry form watching him. He set the potatoes down, and turned his chair towards her, "You know I'd be done faster if you helped me."

"These hands haven't touched a carb in years, I don't care if there's zombies -I'm not about to start now."

He laughed, "I've just got a couple left anyway."

She arched an eyebrow at him, "I should probably sit on your lap, just to make sure you do it right." Not that he could see her eyebrows clearly, but he knew she was.

He grinned at her, and wiggled his eyebrows, "I do a lot of things right."

She gracefully sat on his lap, wiggling a little just to tease him.

"I'm not going to get anything done if you kept doing that," he whispered softly into her ear.

"Maybe you need a break."

"Maybe."

Her family had actually been planning on moving to Ohio where, she'd informed him, she was going to go to join the world champion cheer team, The Cheerios in a dinky town called Lima.

She'd been kinda a bitch when he'd told her that's where he was from.

She still was -but he softened her rough edges. His mom didn't really care for her, but allowed the relationship because…well, he didn't know. She probably figured he couldn't do better.

Better then a beautiful, strong, woman. He could be so lucky. Women wouldn't want a wheelchair bound man who'd be useless on stairs, no matter how much of a stud he was. A man who wouldn't be able to protect her.

Yet she was with him.

But they were pretty safe on the base, even with the recent surge of zombie activity, so that clearly wasn't a priority for her.

Maybe he'd ask her one day.

He liked to think they would have ended up together, in the end, _anyway_ since she was moving to Ohio, to _Lima_, -but probably not. And there was the matter of her being fifteen months younger then him -high school relationships where one person went to college before the other never worked out anyway.

But who knew how things would have went if the zombie apocalypse hadn't happened -he was here, right now, with her…and that was enough.

* * *

**A/N:** Finn! Jacob Ben Israel! Mercedes! And yes, that's Artie &amp; Kitty at the end!

Ms. Pillsbury's ghost wasn't actually a ghost, it was just Jacob feeling guilty and seeing things.

Just a little look at where some other characters are at this point.

It was going to be after 32 part 2, but I was able to finish it easier so here it is. 32 part 2 should be up this weekend! After that there's only maybe six chapters left of Dead Girls Don't Sing, before we move onto the sequel.

(If it makes you feel better about seeing Finn, I wrote a scene where he got ate by one of the super smart zombies while Eva watched in horror before Eric pulled her to safety, with Eric taking over the group's leadership after pointing out how dumb they all were for letting Finn lead in the first place...but it didn't fit anywhere and I would have had to do an OC pov which ugh. So just picture that if you're annoyed he showed up again. If you aren't, pretend I didn't say anything. ;) )


	34. X Gon' Give It To Ya

It had taken several minutes for their eyes to adjust enough they could leave the doorway to June's Father's quarters -June waited patiently, and once it was clear they could see as well as they could again, they undressed, removing anything June deemed suspicious.

Brittany kept the dagger, matches, a comb, and a candle in her deep dress pockets.

Tina kept the gun, box of ammo, their toothbrushes, and the small tube of toothpaste.

They held hands as they followed June through the halls. Compared to the bedroom they'd just left, the halls were simple and drab.

There were a lot of windows, and even though it made her eyes ache, she greedily stared out them as they walked, soaking in every blade of grass, every cloud, every breeze ruffled treetop, every inch of sunlight she could stand to look at.

The kitchen was large; there were four ovens, and two sinks and from where she stood over a counter as she ate, Brittany could see a table that was bigger than even the tables in the cafeteria.

June was silent as they ate; stuffing themselves on everything June handed to them and then Tina politely asking for more after they finished.

June was shocked at the sheer amount they ate, but gave them more food when one of them asked -doing so while looking like Lord Tubbington when Brittany told him she was disappointed by him.

Finally, Brittany was stuffed. She could tell by the way Tina kept patting her stomach with a frown that Tina was too.

That hadn't been able to eat their fill in a long time; and they'd need energy to get away from this place and back where they belonged.

June lead them to a small bathroom, and after all three of them took a turn, she took them out the building to the woman's quarters.

It housed a small bedroom for each single woman, as well as the day care, school, small medical area, and a birthing room.

That's where Brittany and Tina found themselves now.

There were 13 women bustling around the room -it was crowded when Tina, Brittany, and June had joined them 67 minutes ago, and it was still crowded.

Tina and Brittany tried to keep out of the way.

Brittany was a little weirded out at how smiley some of the women were. Tina kept staring at the pregnant stomachs -all different stages. Brittany found that weird too, especially since they hadn't seen a man yet.

The woman June called Mother had come in once, to check on Orchid's status. She'd given Tina and Brittany calculating stares, then given a speech about how this would be the first child born in the new world, and…well, Brittany tuned the rest of it out, because while the woman kinda sounded like the preacher her family would go to church and see, there was a coldness in it that weirded her out.

They didn't belong here. The women had so far been welcoming but it all felt _wrong. _

Like the time Quinn lead the Cheerios in asking, all smiles and charm, less popular people to sit with them at lunch -a few had said no, but most said yes.

Then the Cheerios threw gallons of crickets at them.

It had been really mean, but funny too.

Orchid yelled; and at first Brittany took no notice, because Orchid had been doing a lot of yelling.

Then she let out a low, sharp moan and Brittany paid attention.

The baby was coming, instead of just preparing to come out.

Someone said a little too loudly she'd go get "Mother," and the room burst into a flurry of activity.

Someone shoved a broom into Brittany's hands, and so she started sweeping.

The room was really clean, though, and she wasn't finding anything to sweep up, so she simply stood in one corner, swishing the broom back and forth.

The woman who left to get June's Mother returned.

June's Mom stood next to her -her clothing was bloodstained (Brittany wished she had pants too instead of the dress) and room went silent.

Even Orchid was quiet.

Mother looked all of them -even Brittany and Tina, in the eyes. Then sighed, "I'm afraid our defenses are unprepared to handle the amount of demon activity we are dealing with," then she barked out a list of names, ordering them to come help at the fences. "Send someone to find me once the baby is born and clean," she nodded at June.

She turned sharply on her heel, and left, 7 of the women leaving with her.

As soon as the door closed behind them, a pretty woman with hair that looked like a shiny penny sighed. June looked at Orchid, "How are you doing?"

"How," she huffed, "the hell do you" another huff "think I'm doing June?"

The woman with the penny colored hair went and stood next to Orchid, "Orchid…It won't be long now." She fussed, mopping at Orchid's brow with a wet clothe.

"I hope so," Orchid huffed, then she stared at Brittany, her eyes darting to Brittany's hair, then she muttered about.

It was the same blonde as Orchid's.

"Certainly has a type don't they," she managed to get out, before clinching her face in pain and moaning.

Once that passed, she looked at Brittany again, then Tina, "My name is Anne. Apparently it wasn't pretty enough or some crap for them so they made me go by my middle name," she nodded at Tina, and opened her mouth to say something before another contraction hit.

June grabbed the hand of one of the woman -a short, pretty, black haired Chinese woman whose hair was in an intricate braid. "This is…we've been calling her Lily. She doesn't speak any English? Can you…talk to her?"

Brittany stepped forward. "….Lily's Chinese, Tina is Korean. Duh."

"Um, I know some Mandarin curse words, that's pretty much it. Sorry," Tina said, frowning at Lily, then at June, "And that's assuming she speaks Mandarin."

"We can take her with us anyway," Orchid, _Anne,_ said, then moaned and shut her eyes tightly, her face contorting with pain.

Once the contraction was over, she opened them, and looked straight at June.

"As soon as the baby is out of me, we're handing it off and leaving. We're not going to get another chance."

June frowned, in a whisper she replied, "There's more and more demons out there…..are you sure you want to leave the baby?"

Anne hissed, "I'm not taking your bastard of a father's child with me June. Drop it."

Another contraction hit her.

"Very well. Myself, Anne, Tina and Brittany, Lily," June nodded at the woman with the penny colored hair, "Marigold," she nodded at tall, thin woman who looked like she was trying to disappear in the corner, "Georgia, Giselle -she's outside killing demons, and Faith," she nodded at the last woman, who looked to be a few months pregnant and had the most striking ice blue eyes Brittany had ever seen on an otherwise plain face.

"Didn't they grab another woman and put her in the hole?" Anne gasped out, gripping the sheets in pain.

"Woman? More like girl. Younger then these two even," Faith said disgustedly, stepping forward and grabbing Anne's hand, her free hand on her stomach, "She can't be more then twelve or thirteen."

"They took a child from her family," Marigold frowned, "To survive the zombies then to be kidnapped. That poor girl's parents must be out of their minds with worry."

"The_ demons,_" Georgia said with a pointed look at Marigold, "are active right now. We should leave soon. And naturally we'll be taking her with us." She frowned, "Right?" She looked from June to Anne.

"Yesss," Anne hissed, her face scrunched up in pain, "I….don't….think it'll be long…" she panted.

"I'll get the girl," Faith headed towards the door. Marigold stepped forward, "I'll go check on the animals, and make sure our things haven't been found.

Animals? Brittany wondered what animals they were bringing. Hopefully they'd be quiet; Brittany didn't think any of the women had much experience in the outside world, and as she and Tina shared a glance, she wondered if they'd be better off splitting away from them after they got away from this place.

* * *

It wasn't long before the baby was born, and Georgia was tending to him.

"He's a boy," June quietly.

Brittany tentatively stepped forward, and looked at the infant after gesturing towards Tina. Tina shook her head, and stayed by the door, prompting Brittany to shrug.

Not everyone liked babies, and that was okay.

Underneath all the newborn gunk and redness, his skin was a creamy light brown. He was adorable, and a fresh wave of sadness went through her that Anne didn't want him. Babies should be wanted.

After he was wrapped up in a receiving blanket, Georgia handed him to Anne, who clinched her jaw, but grudgingly took the baby after June whispered, "He needs first breast milk Anne. You have to birth the placenta anyway before we may leave."

Anne stared down at the baby in her arms, then she opens her mouth slightly.

"He…he looks like Marcus," Anne whispered, tentatively running a finger along the baby's cheek, a little louder she added, "June…I don't think that bastard…your father, is_ his_ father. I think…I think I was pregnant before…" she trailed off, staring at the baby in wonderment.

"Try to feed him Anne, before the placenta comes? We've only got a small window of opportunity," June said, looking at the baby with a frown, "If he's not Father's, Mother isn't going to want to keep him."

As she tiredly unbuttoned her nightgown with one hand, then shoved aside the open flap and put the baby at her breast, Anne said firmly, "We're taking him with us."

June smiled, and Georgia gave a tired little laugh, "We packed a bag for the baby just in case you changed your mind."

Brittany couldn't stop staring at the baby. She was glad Anne wanted him now, but she was worried about taking him outside.

It wasn't safe out there.

And he was making her a little sad, because looking at him made her wonder if he was how Santana's baby would have looked if Santana gave birth.

Santana always used to crack jokes about them having a litter of kids, because Brittany talking about the future, _their_ future, especially a future with kids one day, scared her.

They weren't going to get to have kids. They weren't going to have their own house, a yard, retire with a boat Santana kept threatening to name "Brittany's Tits" -none of that was going to happen.

For all Brittany knew, they were all dead and gone.

There was a gentle knock on the door, before Faith poked her head in. She smiled broadly, then stepped inside. There was a very pretty girl that looked like she could be Brittany's prettier little sister trailing behind her, a frown on her face.

It made Brittany think of Tiffany, and it hurt.

The girl needed a bath. She kept blinking a lot.

She saw Brittany, and giggled a little crazily, before she stopped, hiccupping as tears streamed down her face, leaving a clean line.

"I'm Brittany. We," she nodded at Tina, "We were in the hole 72 days. She's Tina."

"I…I'm Paisley" she snuffled, then glared at Faith, "I don't know how, I was only in there a few days and…" she sobbed a little, but swallowed a few times, and wiped at her eyes.

"We had each other," Tina said quietly.

"I want to go home," Paisley said after taking a deep breath.

Anne handed the baby to June, while with a frown Georgia took away a bowl that contained the placenta, and swung her legs over the side of the bed, gripping the headboard tightly as she stood up.

She stepped forward, then said, "We'll get you home. Let's get out of here."

* * *

Apparently, the plan was simple.

Every person, minus Paisley because she was a new addition, had something to carry in simple, homemade bags.

Then they'd walk.

Brittany and Tina made sure to each grab one of the homemade bags that held food along with the other items they'd taken from June's father's rooms.

Anne had the baby, and the bag that had been packed for him, full of homemade baby items just in case she'd changed her mind along with a sling.

The animals consisted of a mated pair of donkeys, one who had a basket of chickens on either side and the other who had bags of chicken feed, plus their little baby.

There was also five pregnant goats and a young male goat tied together and lead by Marigold.

When they were in the barn gathering the animals, Brittany said they needed weapons. She, Tina, and Paisley insisted on it and finally the other woman agreed because Paisley especially was getting loud.

Brittany had a pitchfork. So did Paisley.

Tina had a scythe.

If she was wearing some of her black clothes, she'd have looked really scary.

The only working vehicles the compound had were the snowmobiles -and those were useless now without snow.

Which was bad.

Their eyes hurt, but they could see, so that was good even if they had to blink a lot.

They stood, clustered together in the barn's shadow, making sure they had everything they'd planned to take.

June nodded, "I'll go get Giselle, then we'll be on our way."

"Don't bother." A cold voice said, making them all jump.

Stupid stupid stupid. They should have been paying attention, and not relying on the zombies to be enough of a distraction. They were in the middle of nowhere, there weren't that many zombies especially since it'd been long enough for most of them to be taken care of by now.

June's Mother stood, glaring at the group, 13 women standing slightly behind her.

All of them were blood splattered.

"Giselle's dead. Infected by a z-demon. Before she died, she _confessed_ your treachery, wanting forgiveness. June, my eldest daughter. Please tell me you've been lead astray, and you'll repent." June's mother gave her a very mom look, one that send an aching pang through Brittany because it looked so similar to a look her mom gave her.

"I was thirteen when I had my first baby mother. You and Father are wrong. That's why I don't even know of my children are alive or dead. This_ place is wrong."_ June said, trembling as she stepped forward.

June's mother shook her head. "Perhaps it's your lack of faith that lead the demons to us today. We've lost five good women -and two children in their mother's bellies. You'll have to be punished, June."

Mother had a gun. The other women had various other items, including pans or long knives, several had paddles.

Mother stepped forward, pointing the gun at the Anne as she peaked at the baby. A disguised look on her face, she stepped back.

"Very brown. You were already pregnant when you were selected to receive His blessed seed," Mother's disappointment was clear. She half turned, and barked out, "Get the baby. And go gather Father. He needs to see the child and pass judgment." She turned back, "Perhaps, given the lack of children we have, he'll allow the baby to stay. But perhaps he won't."

She steadily kept the gun trained on them as a short, pudgy woman took the baby from Anne's arms.

Anne couldn't do anything with the gun pointed at her but cry while clinching her fists.

Next to Brittany, Tina was oh so slowly working at pulling the gun in her pocket out.

It took 7 minutes for the three woman who had left to come back.

Brittany had been curious, but looking at the man she wasn't any more.

She wanted to throw up.

Out of all the zombies she'd seen, this one was the scariest looking. Despite the obvious efforts to keep him clean, and in clean clothes, the swollen red skin made him look grotesque.

Paisley was sobbing.

June didn't have a reaction to her father's presence.

Mother addressed the zombie like it was an alive person, and not an undead thing.

"Father, this child is not of your seed. Do you allow it to live with us in this holy area, or will you receive it to nourish yourself through this phase of life?" She nodded, and the woman holding Anne's baby, after a moment of hesitation, carefully held it towards the zombie.

Brittany had always been good at knowing what people were thinking.

Mother knew the baby was going to die, and was happy about it.

Brittany shut her eyes tightly.

She'd already seen so many dead children, she couldn't stand to see any more.

Then a shot fired, and her ears rang.

She opened her eyes.

Father's body lay on the ground, a hole in its head.

Tina held the gun steady at Mother.

"Put the gun down on the ground," Tina said quietly, staring daggers at Mother.

The woman stared at her husband, her mouth open in shock. "You killed him. You _killed_ him."

"Put the gun on the ground, or I'll kill you too," Tina said calmly, then jerked a nod at the woman holding the now screaming baby, "Hand him back to Anne."

The woman did, after flicking a bit of gunk off his bundled up form. Anne took him, and started sobbing as she clutched him close to her, putting him back in his sling.

Mother put the gun on the ground.

"Step back, all of you. Brittany get it." Mother and the women with her stepped back.

Some of the women were crying, others were glaring, or looking anywhere but at Tina or the body.

The gun felt heavy in her hands.

She didn't like it.

She handed it to Tina, who put the small handgun in a coat pocket.

"You killed him," Mother was still muttering, before she stretched, "No matter where you go, I'll find you."

"No, no you won't."

Then Tina shot her.

She fell to the ground, and the women around her either stood stock still, in shock, or they got down and tried to press the wound in her chest.

"Let's go." Tina said quietly.

Brittany, after a moment's hesitation, gently patted Paisley's back, who was still sobbing. Lily, who was standing next to them, clearly had no idea what was going on, and couldn't stop looking Mother and Tina, before stepping closer to Tina.

They walked away as a group.

* * *

The first night, they didn't stop walking until it was starting to get dark, 302 minutes. A little over 10 miles.

It was disappointing.

Anne insisted on not stopping, despite the fact she really looked like she needed to rest. Finally, at June's insistence, they stopped long enough to move some chicken feed around and get Anne on top of a donkey so she could ride.

The walk had been quiet, except for someone pointing out a zombie, and June quietly telling Tina she wished she had been brave enough to end her Father's suffering.

There were 27 zombies in that first walk.

Tina and Brittany -and surprisingly Paisley, took care of them.

It worried Brittany, because they were very literally in the middle of nowhere, and that was a lot of zombies for being nowhere.

The other women were inexperienced with them, and it was easier and safer for the trio to take care of them.

They needed to change that, but first they needed to get away.

Finally, just as Brittany was starting to wonder if they were going to have to sleep in an abandoned car they saw every now and then -and she was wondering what they'd do with the animals, a driveway came to view. A long driveway with a small house at the end of it.

They spent the first night there.

* * *

It was during the third day of walking -49 miles away from the compound, and still no sign of civilization beyond the occasional car (that they tried to start every time), the odd house or the weird constant stream of zombies, that it became clear there was something wrong with Anne. According to June, they were heading to the town nearest to the Ranch, which was still 20 miles away.

Anne was getting weaker and weaker, despite Marigold and June both insisting she get half of each of their food and that she and Faith ride a donkey as much as possible.

Brittany hadn't had a chance to talk to Tina alone yet, so they could figure out what they were going to do.

They could do the 20 miles easily by themselves, but it'd probably take a couple more days with the group they were with.

Longer, because Anne really needed to rest in a real bed. The second night they had actually ended up sleeping in the back of an abandoned truck, scrunched together, Brittany, Tina, and Paisley taking turns on watch throughout the night.

Brittany seriously doubted they'd last long without Brittany and Tina.

Paisley's family apparently lived just five miles away from the town they were heading towards -and her mom was a midwife. She promised that her mom would check over Anne and the still unnamed baby both, and that the group could stay and rest there for a few days.

They just had to get there first.

The morning of the fourth day was bad.

Really bad.

They had made camp on a solitary hill under a solitary tree -it was better than staying on the road and hoping for the best.

Anne was feverish, and very very pale.

They gathered around her.

"June…" she whispered, "Will you…take care of my son?"

Tears in her eyes…June looked at the baby that was nursing in Anne's arms, and then looked away, "I…I can't. I'm sorry, but…he just reminds me…of my sons."

"Anyone?" She asked, looking Faith, then Marigold, then Georgia, then even Lily in the eyes.

Lily had the usual look of confusion and fear on her face, but she gently patted Anne on the shoulder reassuringly.

Faith slowly shook her head, "I'm sorry, but…" and she put both hands on her stomach for emphasis.

"I can barely handle the thought of the animals dying Anne, like...I can't handle a baby, if something happened to him it would...I'm so sorry it's incredibly selfish of me but..." Marigold said, then started crying softly.

"He's too brown." At the look June gave her, Georgia sighed, "You're thinking the same thing June!"

Anne let out a bitter laugh, and switched the baby to her other breast. "I don't want you to take him if you can't love him anyway Georgia. It's…it's okay…maybe it's…for the best this way."

Biting her lip, Brittany looked at Tina.

Tina shook her head.

It was stupid of her.

They didn't have formula.

The baby was young enough that he didn't do much but eat, sleep, and poop, and anytime he scrunched his face up to cry Anne was right there so he'd been relatively quiet with someone tending to his needs 24/7.

This was really stupid.

But she couldn't stop thinking about the children in the library. About her sister -if something happened to leave Tiffany the only survivor, she'd want someone to take her sister in, to love her and ensure her survival as best they could.

Besides -the baby looked like what Brittany and Santana's baby could look like if they could have babies without a man. Creamy brown skin, blue eyes, and a shock of blonde hair.

Maybe it was a sign.

"I'll take him," Brittany said, "But you have to name him."

Anne smiled, "Nicholas. After my dad."

* * *

They left Anne's body under the tree, covered in a blanket.

The animals -as noisy and burdensome they were, were still alive, even the donkey baby.

They fed Nicholas donkey milk straight from the female donkey -they had no other choice.

It required Tina, Brittany, and June present to make sure the donkey didn't freak out and hurt him as he suckled directly from her teats.

Paisley assured them her mom had formula and bottles to give out in case a client needed them, so he'd be fine.

It was nearly an hour before dark that they found the town -the first sign being a car dealership.

Tina, Paisley, and June took the first running car that started, and headed out to Paisley's home.

Georgia, Brittany, and Marigold set about making them a comfortable place to rest for a few days.

Brittany poured over a fold up map of the area.

They were 89 miles away from Millsfield.

Four hours, tops, by car.

Tomorrow.

They could be home by tomorrow.

She looked down at the baby who was sleeping in a file cabinet drawer she'd pulled out and set beside her, and smiled.

Maybe Santana would have that look in her eye that had died when it had became clear that her family was all gone, as well as their future. Nicholas, as sad as his origins were, could be a little chunk of the future they were supposed to have had.

She frowned.

Or maybe it'd make Santana sad. Maybe he would die, they'd all die, and there was no point.

She shook that thought from her head -she needed to think positive.

She felt weird without Tina, like it hurt to breath and she couldn't stop trembling.

Like she couldn't relax, and was always on the edge of panic.

That feeling didn't go away until headlights appeared, and parked down the road.

* * *

Paisley was sobbing as they came through the doors.

She had a leather army style duffle bag, and a faded pink backpack with a sleeping bag tied to the top with her, and had changed her clothes and cleaned up a bit. As soon as the trio was inside, she'd gone into an office, curled up in a chair, and there she was, still sobbing.

Brittany looked at her, then at Tina.

"It was overrun. No survivors. The zombies had left, so we had time to get some things," Tina tossed the keys on the coffee table they were all gathered around in the waiting room, then handed Brittany a smaller leather bag, and set the other backpack down, "Formula, bottles, diapers, pacifiers and baby stuff in there," she nodded at the backpack, "Ammo, medical stuff in that."

The cloth diapers June had packed were almost out, and they hadn't had a chance to wash any of them yet.

"Thanks." She rubbed a finger along the leather.

June was looking through the bags Georgia had been carrying, pulling out food items, water bottles, and toilet paper.

"There's a lot of blankets still in the truck," Tina added. Then she went and stood next to Brittany, their arms just barely touching.

She'd felt weird without Brittany too.

Once they had some food in them -Paisley had declined to join them, the animals were tended to, and the baby fed, burped, changed, and sleeping, a binky in his mouth, they gathered around the map.

"Brittany and I are going here," Tina said, tapping the little dot that said "Millsfield."

"My father sent several couples to our small compound outside Pierre -that was our original destination," June said, then looked at Brittany, then Tina, through her eyelashes, "I hope you'll join us. We are…quite unprepared and we need you, that is clear."

"No. We're going back to our family," Brittany shook her head for emphasis.

"You're lucky we didn't slit your throats in the middle of the night. You kidnapped us, and now you want us to go with you to a city, to find even more of you?" Tina said flatly, her eyes narrowing.

"We're taking Lily and Paisley with us, too," Brittany decided. Tina nodded slightly at her.

Tina agreed. Good.

Marigold shrugged, "If I had known the Celestial Gate Ranch kidnapped women and kept them in a cellar I would have never answered that craigslist ad. If it's okay, I'd like to go with you to Millsfield?"

After a moment of hesitation, Tina nodded.

Faith sighed, her hand on her belly, "I don't want to go to the compound either. My husband and his first wife are there."

"You can come with us." Brittany said.

June held her hands clasped tight together, biting her lip as she thought. Finally she said, "My husband is there too…I…I do not want to have another baby, and he will wish to as he was before Father sent him away. May…I?"

"Yeah." Tina said.

They all looked at Georgia.

The tall woman nodded after a moment's hesitation.

It was settled then -tomorrow or the next day they'd go to Millsfield, they just needed to find an animal trailer first for the animals.

Brittany couldn't wait.

* * *

Brittany had slept on and off through the night, Tina at her side, and Nicholas next to her in his box so he'd be safe.

It wasn't easy taking care of a new born baby, especially when all their water was in mason jars and she only had a tiny fire in a metal trash can to heat it up -it was a delicate balance.

She was able to use the water out of the back of the toilet tank to boil and wash his cloth diapers though, so it was nice to have them clean and hanging up to dry without having to use their drinking water.

She woke up with a jerk, and tried to figure out what had woke her up.

Nicholas wasn't crying. Tina was still rigid lying next to her on their makeshift bed of a couch pulled out of one of the offices (pregnant Faith had the couch that was in the waiting room).

Pounding.

She sat up carefully, trying not to disturb Tina, and looked around.

The last few days their eyes had adjusted, but they still had headaches. She blinked, trying to decide if she was actually seeing what she thought she was seeing.

There were zombies pressed against the glass.

A lot of zombies.

Most of them were pounding.

She gasped.

"Tina," she touched Tina's shoulder, waking her, or alerting her because with how quickly Tina sat up she must have been awake already.

Tina cursed in Korean _and_ Yiddish.

"Start waking everyone up -we need to keep quiet, and move into one of the offices instead of being out here with all this glass," Tina looked around, and frowned said a little quieter, "Be ready to run if we need too, we'll try to take Paisley and Lily if we can…where's Georgia?"

Tina stood up, and stalked towards the area they kept most of their things.

Or had.

There were only two bags left.

"Keys are gone too," Tina muttered, fire in her eyes, "Is the ammo and med bag still with Nicholas's stuff? Is his stuff even there or did she take that too?"

A quick look, and to Brittany's relief, she was able to say, "All three bags are there."

"She must have left the gates open when she left," Tina said, then started waking people up. She was a lot gentler with Paisley and Lily then she was with Marigold, Faith, and June.

* * *

74 minutes later found them crowded in an office furthest from the glass windows at the front of the building -their meager supplies were with them.

"I just can't believe she would abandon us," June was saying for the 15th time.

"June, please shut up," Tina snarled, clearly done with June's disbelief.

"Let's not argue," Marigold said sniffling a bit. She'd finally stopped crying about the animals. Either Georgia had taken them with her, they'd run off, or the zombies had ate them.

From the window, Paisley said, "They aren't going away." She turned towards them, her face pensive, "Dad…dad and the other adults were talking about how weird the zombies were being a few days before I was kidnapped. It was like they just seemed to know where we were despite distracting them away and us not giving out any signs we were there."

"Are they getting smarter? Or is it some instinct in them that that leads them to us? Like bees always able to find the hive?" Faith asked, frowning.

"We should leave," Tina decided, "Someone can go out and find a car -this side of the dealer ship doesn't have too many yet. Then the rest of us go out the back door, get in, and we leave."

"But how are we going to do that without the zombies swarming us?" Paisley asked, "There's a lot…like, a lot out there. More than we've seen this whole time."

Brittany clutched the baby to herself and a horrible thought went through her.

What if they left him in the dealer ship -he'd cry, and be a distraction.

He was only four days old.

Most of that time, he'd been with Anne.

There was some pain medicine in the first aid supplies, they could give enough to him that he wouldn't feel any pain.

Santana was scared about having babies -Brittany didn't even think she'd been taking care of Tiffany this whole time. She'd kinda assumed someone else had the big responsibilities like making sure Tiffany's hair was brushed and her teeth clean and she ate all her veggies, while Santana did the easy stuff she usually did.

He had only been on the world for 103 hours.

Brittany barely knew him.

He probably wasn't going to get to grow up anyway. If it wasn't zombies, he could starve. Or get a childhood disease that he would have had a vaccine for, before. Or he could be kidnapped by cannibals and forced to grow up in a tiny cage so his meat would be tender.

He was 6180 minutes old.

6181 minutes old.

Would she be able to live with herself, knowing that the only reason she was alive was because she'd sacrificed a baby. If the zombies didn't break in and eat him while he still pain free, he'd be torn alive and feel every bite. Or the glass could hold, and he'd cry himself hoarse as he starved to death.

She looked down at his very blue eyes -after a moment, she didn't see Anne's eyes there.

She saw her own.

She saw her blonde hair in his little tuff of hair.

She saw Santana's skin, and Santana's chin and Santana's glare whenever she put his binky in his mouth.

6182 minutes old.

He was her baby.

_Their_ baby.

She'd protect him and take care of him just like she would her sister.

The responsibility didn't feel real until this moment -it settled along her shoulders, curling up with the responsibility of her sister.

She stood up a little straighter, and set him gently into Lily's arms. The Asian woman clutched him to her and nodded a few times, a frown on her face.

Some things transcended language barriers. Like babies. She felt really bad that Lily had just been dragged along without anyone being able to talk to her -she was probably confused and scared and missing her family.

The look Tina gave her made her think Tina knew what she had been thinking, and what she was about to say.

"I'll distract them." She said softly.

"And I'll get us the car," Tina added.

They were _so _close.

* * *

"You are not going out there and distracting the zombies," Quinn said flatly, rubbing an almost sleeping Beth's back.

Next to her, Rachel held a sleeping Abby, and shifted the girl over a bit to glare at Santana, "Don't be ridiculous."

Santana glared at both of, little slivers of jealousy shooting through her. She swallowed them down. She had better then them and now she has no one. She'll deal like she'd been dealing.

"Blaine and I have it figured out. There's like a few hundred zombies surrounding the building -we'll be out of water in, what, two days?"

They'd already been cooking with water from the various canned foods, and suspended all water usage except for drinking.

Santana's teeth felt gross.

Not as gross as the toilets were.

"_You,_ Ms. Vegan, havebeen talking about not giving the animals water," Santana continued, scowling, "That'll buy us what, a day? Two? And you think the kids are gonna be okay with watching the dogs be thirsty? And the chickens are already sickly. Those things know we're here, and they aren't going away no matter how quiet we are. We have_ no_ other choice."

"So what's the plan then Santana," Quinn said quietly, "You and Blaine go out and what, _sing_ at the zombies until they follow you then what?"

"Everyone else in the building are going to draw the zombies to the front -we'll go out the back, run for the garage. I'll get the bus, Blaine will grab whatever's nearest to the doors that'll run -probably Puck's truck. He'll make noise, honking and whatever, draw them away. I'll drive the bus here -we shove what we can in it, pack everyone up, and get the hell out of here. We'll meet Blaine at Sludge's." Santana leaned back against the wall, and stared stonily at first Quinn, then Rachel.

"No way." Quinn said, shaking her head.

Rachel sighed, and carefully placed Abby on the bed, and fiddled with some of the two and a half year olds hair, before saying, "It is…not a very good idea," she finally said slowly, looking anywhere but at Quinn, "but…we are running out of time and options. Waiting is clearly not working. We're almost out of wood as well, soon we will not even be able to cook or boil water even if it rained, which it might."

"Hobbit's right. We need to do something. Today. " The thought of leaving the only place Brittany knew where to find them hurt a little.

Not as much as the hurt at watching Tiffany dehydrate or starve to death.

It made her sad to let go of the last little bit of hope she had that Brittany was coming back, but she didn't really have a choice. They couldn't stay here.

If this was what growing up was, it _sucked._

Instead of answering, Quinn sat the mostly sleeping Beth next to Abby on the bed, then turning to stare at Santana.

"W-"

Whatever Quinn was about to say was interrupted by Sam poking his head into the room. Quietly, he said, "Uh, something's going on outside. Come look."

Santana shoved her way past Rachel, not even bothering to wait for the love birds.

Standing next to Blaine and Terri, she looked out the bits of window that weren't covered by newspaper or blankets.

The zombies were, slowly but surely, stumbling away.

"They're leaving?" Quinn asked.

"Why?" Terri said, her voice was high strung and stressed. Theresa had been colicky the last couple of weeks, and that, coupled with their water situation and the zombies around the building had turned Terri into an irritable, easily stressed out snapping wreck.

Santana had almost started to like her, too -Terri was blunt, didn't try to pretend she was their mom or anything, and laughed at all of Santana's jokes -mean or otherwise.

"Look, there's someone on a dirt bike leading them away," Stevie said excited.

Santana shrugged closer to the window and looked around as best she could, trying to see what Stevie was talking about.

Finally, she saw -a figure dressed in all white Motocross gear -except for a pair of black boots was circling on a black motocross bike around in a figure eight pattern, slowly but surely drawing the zombies away from the apartment building.

She swallowed, hard.

It couldn't be Brittany.

It _couldn't_ be.

"Someone go grab some binoculars, I'm pretty sure we're being signaled with a mirror from that church" Sam said, and Rachel handed them to him.

They had all used them at least twice over the last few days, trying to see if everyone else had missed a magical solution to their problems.

"It's Tina," Sam said quietly, half dropping the binoculars as he stared. "Tina and some other people."

"The rider is Brittany," Quinn said flatly.

Sam had the binoculars back up to his face. After a pregnant pause, he said quietly, "I'm pretty sure, yeah."

Santana felt like she was going to puke and cry at the same time.

"This is incredible and amazing, but I suggest we take this time start preparing to leave," Rachel pointed out.

As the others started doing just that, Santana couldn't make herself move from her spot, watching the figure on the bike.

* * *

It wasn't even an hour later now, and Santana had only a few minutes to stand at the window before finally being drawn away from the window because Tiffany needed help rolling her blankets up in her sleeping bag, then Terri needed a hand stuffing a giant backpack with Theresa's things, then Blaine wanted help figuring out what of Kurt's to take with him and what to leave, then they all had to pitch in moving the food they were taking with them downstairs so it'd be easier to pack up (which was all the food they had) then, of course, Santana had to get her own stuff together and make sure Tiffany's backpack was packed with more than just toys.

If she didn't know better, she'd think everyone was trying to keep her busy and distracted.

But soon, she and Rachel were starting to load up the bus Sam had went and got as soon as he was able.

They were outside for the first time in a while, and it felt great.

She could almost forget about the ghost.

Because that's all it had been.

A ghost.

She wasn't going to let herself think otherwise, especially because the rider hadn't come back yet.

The rider still wasn't back and that meant that they had died just when she'd gotten her back and she wasn't going to cry, no, she was going to keep handing things to the hobbit so Rachel could pack them neatly on the bus.

The bus.

The bus still had six seats in the front three on either side. One of the seats on the right side was only half bolted on. There were panels sticking up along the walls that Kurt had obviously not gotten to finish taking off because he'd_ died,_ and it was going to be a rough and bumpy drive and they'd have to keep the kids away from them because the last thing they needed was someone getting cut not to mention the barrel of fuel they'd taken from that bastards house was bungee corded behind one of the seats and that wasn't the safest thing but it was better than having to leave it behind and she was trying not to think about that rider, about that rider being dead when she had returned to Santana. Returned to Santana and Tiffany and everyone and she still wasn't back and she was dead now for real and there was Tina leading four women and a girl who was holding a baby and there was tears starting to drip down Santana's face.

Rachel saw them as she stood in the emergency exit on the side of the bus, and if Rachel said a word about them Santana would -no, Rachel hopped down and went to meet Tina, only giving Santana a concerned glance.

Santana wiped away the tears, and took a deep breath and turned around.

She was thinking of something snarky and mean to say to Tina when -

When she saw Brittany.

She saw _Brittany._

Sweet, beautiful amazing Brittany wearing a full motocross outfit, holding a helmet as she walked the dirt bike she'd been riding towards them when she lead the zombies away.

Brittany.

_Brittany. _

Brittany was_ alive. _

Pure joy flowed through her.

Then guilt. Brittany was alive and they didn't even _try_ to find them.

"San." Brittany's voice pushed through the fog, and the girl -the _woman_, herself was standing in front of her, the bike on its kickstand. "It's not your fault Santana. And you couldn't have found us, we were 149 miles away."

Then Brittany dropped the helmet, stepped forward, and kissed her.

And for the entire time they kissed, Santana forgot about the zombies, about her dead family, about the fucked up world, and about the people around them.

It was just the two of them.

And it was wonderful.

Then the baby in the girl's arms cried, and Brittany pulled away. The blonde girl stepped forward, and handed the baby to Brittany, who handed him to Santana.

She stared down at the tiny baby in her arms -Brittany's eyes. Brittany's hair. Her skin. Her glare as the kid popped a pacifier in the baby's mouth.

"Did…did you get your time machine working and jump forward far enough in the future clones are a thing?" Was all she could think to say as she stared down stupidly at the baby.

"This is Nicholas M. Lopez. His mom and dad are dead, so I decided to adopt him. I know we aren't married, or engaged, but I always planned on taking your name to get away from sharing it with _her_…" Brittany trailed off.

"Anne looked like she could have been Brittany's older sister," Tina said quietly.

That explained a lot about the kid's looks.

Brittany had adopted a baby._ For them._

Santana ignored the tears dripping down her face.

She knew what Brittany was doing, just as sure as Brittany knew Santana's thoughts a moment ago.

Brittany was claiming a little hope, a little bit of what they lost when the world ended.

She was trying to think about the future.

_Their _future.

The words came easy to her after she coughed back the lump in her throat.

"I know, for a long time I refused to acknowledged how I felt about you -I told you sex wasn't dating, that it was okay to have boyfriends while we had sex because we weren't dating and it wasn't cheating because we were best friends and both girls. You deserved someone better, someone that would want to be a relationship with you, a real relationship without the freaking zombie apocalypse shoving her out of the closet. I…oh Brittany. Dios mio, Brittany will you marry me?" The words were a mangled mixture of Spanish and English and she wasn't even sure Brittany understood her -Santana barely understood herself.

Tears were streaming down her face.

She wouldn't blame Brittany if she said no.

She couldn't blame her if Brittany said no.

It would be everything Santana deserved for all the crap she'd pulled on and to the people around her practically since she could talk.

Brittany smiled down at her, and despite the dark grey clouds in the sky, it was like sunshine all around them.

"Really Santana? This isn't just because we have a baby now is it? No it isn't is it? I love you too. Of course I'll marry you."

They kissed again -carefully now, since Santana still held the baby in her arms.

Their baby.

That was going to take some time to get used to.

"What's the M stand for anyway Brittany?" the blonde girl asked, gazing down at the tiny baby in Santana's arms once the pair had finished kissing.

Brittany smiled, "Santana, Rachel, this is Paisley. She was in the hole like us, but by herself. And it stands for M. So it can be whatever anyone wants it to stand for; Mr. Schue. Mack. Marcus."

"Brittany?" Rachel stepped forward, and sighed.

"Rachel?"

Rachel sighed again, "Please, please, no more children."

Brittany cocked her head to the side, and smiled toothily as she squinted at the shorter girl. "No promises."

Then Rachel hugged Brittany, muttering teary apologies.

Santana smiled a real smile for what felt like the first time in a long time.

Marrying Brittany was always something she'd_ always_ secretly wanted; she never thought she'd actually get it though, especially now.

She should go get Tiffany. And Quinn. Just as she finished that thought, Sam yelled from the fourth floor, "Zombies are starting to come back."

Damn it.

Reunions would have to wait -they needed to get out of here.

* * *

**A/N: **

Special thanks to Harley Quinn Davidson for naming Nicholas!

So Tina? Bad ass. I don't think, had she been present at the veterinary clinic she would as cold as she was this chapter -but after 72 days being stuck in a hole, she's clearly holding a grudge. Brittany's more forgiving -to a point.

June, Faith, and Marigold are going to be interesting additions to the group. June and Faith have their own issues -Faith's fairly new to the cult, so she's not going to have the same issues as June, who was born into it, has. And Marigold is a wandering hippy who joined the cult because of a really well written craigslist ad.

I did write a version of this chapter where Brittany _did_ decide to sacrifice Nicholas, just as a maybe direction to go -but it became evident to me that it wouldn't have worked out well for the story, a. Tina wouldn't have been able to forgive Brittany for that, despite her clearly shaking her head at Brittany about caring for the baby, not wanting to be responsible for an infant is different then just coldly sacrificing it, b. That would totally break Brittany forever. and c. When the other's found out -even the ever pragmatic Rachel would have been horrified, and it would have broken up the family vibe the group has going on. Some things you just can't come back from, and sacrificing a baby is one of them.

If you started reading the last chapter, and stopped because it was Finn's POV, I suggest you go check out the rest of the chapter if you wanna see how Mercedes and Artie are doing. And then let me know what you thought. ;)

This chapter isn't in it's final draft -and that's probably evident. But I wanted it over and done with so I could move on, so here we are. Eventually I'll go back and final draft it.

Hopefully I was at least able to get into Santana's head at that last part, and that most of you were able to enjoy their reunion and proposal. Plenty of Brittany/Santana in the next chapter.

I wonder how Sludge, his wife, and her aunt are doing? ;)


	35. Look on Down From the Bridge

She never thought she would have this again.

Santana sat in-between Brittany's legs on one of the three mattresses hastily shoved into the bus after they'd finished stuffing it with their supplies and belongings.

The one they were on was the only one against a wall, on the only panel that Kurt had finished taking off.

The thin metal had to be cold.

Brittany didn't complain, or even comment on it when Santana had tossed her Abuela's shawl and a pillow.

Even with both items acting as a buffer, it still had to be really cold.

Tiffany was sleeping, half on top of Santana. Lord Tubbington was at Brittany's hip, purring his furry little head off.

Nicholas finally sleeping, in a box bungee corded to the back legs of the seat they were behind.

Not that he had been difficult or anything, all he did was eat, poop, cry a tiny bit, frown and glare when the pacifier was shoved in his mouth, and sleep. It had been long enough with him Santana could just about to predict when he was going to wake up and want food and a diaper change.

He was this tiny little person and it was starting to sink in that he was theirs, and they were responsible.

It was scary as hell.

At least Tiffany could like, feed herself and dress herself and all that stuff.

They needed to get him an actual car seat at some point.

The mattress was kinda lumpy, Brittany was all angles, Tiffany kept sleep twitching, and they were sharing part of the bed with Tina, and Rachel. All of them that were on the mattresses were crowded together, no space or privacy beyond what having your own blanket offered.

There was nowhere else Santana wanted to be right now.

Santana could hear Brittany's heartbeat, could feel it through the upper half of her body that was against Brittany; it almost synced with the rain falling on the bus as they drove.

Because naturally it _finally_ started raining once they left the building. And it hadn't let up even now, a day later.

As soon as they'd finished, on their way out of town they had driven towards Shawn's house -no one really expected Shawn and his family would want to join them, but they had wanted to say goodbye at least.

It was utter chaos. Zombie's were everywhere, and Shawn and Violeta were on the roof of their small house, trying to pick off the zombies that surrounded them, Shawn shooting with a desperation that had even made Rachel frown in sympathy.

Of course, that hadn't stopped Rachel from then saying they should leave.

Rachel was hardcore, and it kinda scared Santana.

Quinn was driving Puck's truck, and she, when Rachel suggested that via the radio, had simply sighed and laid out the plan.

Sam had killed the sickest looking chicken, slitting it's throat out of view of the children and Marigold, and tossed it out of a window into the back of the truck, then Quinn started honking, and drawn by the noise and the blood, the zombies followed her as she drove away. It took a few minutes for it to be safe enough to help Shawn and Violeta down, then grab what they could out of their supplies.

Apparently Josefa had been bitten the day before.

Which sucked, because Santana had liked Josefa.

The woman had reminded Santana of her Aunties.

Her eyes darted to Tina who curled up next to Lord Tubbington, that Paisley girl curled up next to her, Rachel, Quinn, Sarah, Beth, and Abby on the mattress with them.

It was really crowded.

Brittany and Tina hadn't been apart from each other much at all.

They'd even both cried and wrapped their arms around Blaine and hugged him together when they were told about Kurt.

She kept telling herself that Brittany wouldn't have survived in that stinking hole by herself without Tina; she would have ended up a zombie bride.

So Santana needed to be grateful to Tina. Not jealous. Of course they were close now.

Of course.

It was late, and Santana was tired.

They'd been able to stop and get water but even though they hadn't had a chance to boil it yet, Shawn had bottled water, was another problem solved for now.

They were vaguely heading towards Lake Michigan, because Shawn said the radio said to go to a military base that was close to it. A Canadian base.

He hadn't heard anything about any US Military bases on the radio. No broadcasts from the president either.

They had no other ideas.

Any worries they had about being at a military base was pushed aside by the fact that the zombies were being freaky swarms.

Plus, it was really hard to be worried about anything on a Canadian base.

It was Canada.

Probably they could get there, and just take over with the Canadians' apologizing to them about the trouble of taking over.

It was over eight hundred miles to the base -they could do that in a full day if they kept taking turns driving and kept stops to the minimum.

Which was why there was a bucket bungee corded to behind the seat next to the diesel barrel, and some sheets strung up around it.

It really sucked, but it was easier then stopping every hour for the pregnant women who had to pee 800 times an hour.

Blaine was driving the bus right now -Sam was driving Puck's truck. It had Brittany (and Tina's) motocross bikes in the back.

The remaining chickens (they were down to three chickens and a rooster) were clucking softly to themselves in a couple of large dog carriers right here in the bus.

Every time they _did_ stop, they had a couple hours, tops, before the first zombies started appearing -even if they were in the middle of god damned nowhere.

Whatever.

Brittany was alive. Alive and with her.

And Brittany's embrace, even with the weight of a five year old and half weight of a cat on her, she would sleep through the night.

Even though Brittany was all angles and muscle now -not an inch of fat on her frame.

Her boobs were smaller, and even her muscles weren't like they were.

She was pale, now. Her hair was dull. Her nails cracked.

Santana didn't care about any of that, with time and food and sun Brittany would be okay; she was just so glad to have Brittany back.

She wanted to murder everyone involved in stealing Brittany away.

That June chick tried to be helpful and crap, but Santana saw the little looks she gave Santana, or Nicholas, or Quinn &amp; Rachel when they dared be affectionate to each other.

The first time Faith had made a face when Santana kissed Brittany, she'd gone off on her and neither of them dared make a look now about Brittany and Santana.

Racist homophobic cunts.

Santana woke up when she realized the bus had stopped.

"I need some sleep," Blaine said apologetically, quietly, obviously trying not to wake up the people sleeping in a seat or a mattress.

He yawned.

Shawn sat up from where he'd been curled around his wife, "I can drive the bus for a while."

Sam knocked on the bus door, and quickly Blaine let him in. He wiped water off his face, and just looked tired.

"I can drive the truck," Santana found herself saying, "If…Brittany, can you keep me company?"

Brittany didn't answer, not at first, until Tina nodded slightly.

That was irritating.

"I can watch Nicholas -and Dahlia too Blaine so you can sleep," Tina said softly.

Brittany pursed her lips, but nodded, and added just as softly, "He just went to sleep, so it should be a couple of hours."

Santana shoved her irritation away -Tina knew that, because Tina had been right there.

That Lily woman sat up from where she was huddled on small corner of the mattress that Shawn and his wife also were on, and said something in Chinese to Blaine, who answered her.

Brittany had been delighted that someone could talk to the woman.

Apparently she was a tourist, and her name was Lin. So those racist dicks had been close on her name. Kinda.

Qian Lin.

According to Blaine, she was from Hong Kong, and she had parents and a twin sister back in China.

She was quite the chatterbox and when Blaine wasn't busy (and often when he was), she was at his side, helping him if she could, and chattering at him.

Santana was pretty sure she knew what "Please slow down," was in Chinese now, from how often Blaine had said it in the short length of time they had known the woman.

Soon, Santana found herself behind the wheel of Puck's truck, Brittany sprawled out in the passenger side, a still sleeping Tiffany on her lap, and the cat in between them.

She inhaled deeply as she buckled her seatbelt, and with a tinge of sadness, realized didn't smell like Puck's cologne any more.

She was dumb -of course it wouldn't smell like his cologne any more.

He was dead and gone.

Had been for a while.

She wondered how things would be if he was still alive.

She smiled a little as she started the truck up, thinking about Puck's reaction to Quinn and Rachel being together.

Then snorted -he'd probably try for a threesome.

She took her eyes off the road for a split second to look at Brittany.

She was staring ahead of them, idly petting Tiffany's hair with one hand, gripping the seatbelt strap tightly with the other.

They had so much to talk about.

_"When you were gone, I kissed Rachel. Then I found out she and Quinn were together. I offered to be in a threesome with them."_ she said in Spanish, just in case Tiffany wasn't totally asleep.

Brittany looked at her, and in perfect Spanish, replied,_ "Do you want me to see if they'll go for a foursome?" _

"I think I'm going to puke." Santana didn't even bother to say that in Spanish, "And I would have if they had accepted."

Brittany laughed at her, and it was the best sound ever.

Once she finished laughing, she said softly, "You must have been really sad and lonely without me, if you kissed _Rachel._ I would have assumed Quinn."

"I was. And…I dunno. Quinn was…her hair, her _roots,_ were too…blonde. Made me think of you. Figured Rachel was the furthest from you I could have gotten. And I also assumed she was lonely too…Are you mad at me for kissing someone else?"

"You thought I was dead Santana. When I die, I want you to find someone else. I want you to be happy, and move on, even if that's a day after I die. Life's too short now." After a moment, Brittany added, "And I think Blaine is technically the furthest from me you can get."

Santana made a grossed out face, which had to have been barely visible in the light from the bus's headlights behind them, and Brittany laughed at her again.

She pointedly ignored Brittany talking about dying and moving on.

They settled in a comfortable silence.

After a while, still petting Tiffany's hair, Brittany said, "I feel really bad about Kurt. Blaine's like the last unicorn now."

Santana grabbed the wheel tighter.

She hadn't even really thought about Blaine since Brittany had appeared.

They had had a bond, brought together by the apparent death of their partner.

And now Brittany had come back.

Kurt _wasn't_ coming back.

It wasn't like, in the last twenty four hours or whatever time it had been exactly, they'd had much time for socializing or anything. There was always something to be done when they stopped the bus and truck, or even inside when they were driving, or people were trying to sleep and even whispers were loud in the bus.

She would definitely make time to talk to Blaine.

Being Blaine, when she tried to talk to him he would just apologize for making her worry or some crap like that.

"You came back to me. Kurt's not coming back to him. I'm glad I never have to feel that way again, it sucks and I hate that he's still going through it."

Brittany nodded, the light casting shadows over her face. After a moment, she said, "You know it could still happen again Santana. Just because you're ignoring a fact doesn't make it true. Like the fact that cat spit keeps away acne."

"Don't talk like that. It's not going to happen." Santana said flatly.

"I could die._ You_ could die."

"No. We are not having this conversation. I just got you back, we don't need to think about this."

"Sannie…" Brittany trailed off. "Santana, I love you. I want to marry you. And I'm really proud of you for how you've been taking care of Tiffany. Even if you spanked her. But…the reality is, you could die at any time. So could I. We both know you're strong enough to handle it now. So it won't be the end of the world."

Santana took her eyes off the road to stare at Brittany for a moment. She took a deep breath, and blinked back the tears that threatened to form, "Brittany. I lost you once. If I lost you again, that's _it_. Write the will, leave Quinn and Rachel the kids, I'm done. After losing you once, going through that, I couldn't go through it again even if there was a dozen children that were ours and needed me around. You are my world, so yeah, it would be the end for me."

"Maybe we should have two dozen then. Sam could get you pregnant."

Santana snorted, "Ew. Even two dozen. I'm just…I'm not strong enough Brittany? Okay? I'm not strong enough to lose you twice."

It felt so good to say her name, to talk to her, even if she'd rather sit through Rachel talking about the optimal way to build a fire or ask questions and take notes on lady on lady sex, anything then this current conversation.

"Didn't you tell Quinn at the start of all this you wouldn't be able to survive without me? But you_ did._ I think you're stronger then you realize Santana."

Santana swallowed thickly, "Maybe. Maybe not. How about we just ensure that I never, ever, have to find out okay?"

Brittany smiled, even without looking at her Santana knew she was smiling, and said, "I'll try. No promises."

After a moment, Brittany sighed, "Tiffany's grown up so much since I was kidnapped. She wears all her clothes when she's in the bathroom now and so many other things different then before."

"Yeah. Kid's are supposed to do that. Gonna have to have her start helping out more, since we've got a baby now." Santana tried to say this without hurting Brittany's feelings or anything, "I…can barely wrap my brain around that. _We,_ Santana and Brittany, have a baby. It feels unreal. I am glad we didn't have to use a turkey baster. "

"And we're getting married."

"That too. I'm going to loot you the biggest diamond ring. I bet the base will have a preacher or something. We can get married in the spring, all the flowers blooming."

"I'd marry you right now if you wanted to Santana. I don't need a ring, or flowers or a preacher. I just need you, and our family."

Santana couldn't help but think about the family that _wouldn'_t be there, whenever they did get married.

She shoved those thoughts away.

There was no point to them.

"Are you sure? Maybe…maybe tomorrow sometime then?"

"Yes. Even if it's raining, let's do it. Who knows what could happen if we wait."

Santana didn't want to think like that, but she could grudgingly admit Brittany had a point.

* * *

After raining all night, it had stopped raining.

The clouds looked bleak and dreary, so it was only a temporary break.

Quinn held Nicholas, all the children hastily dressed in their cleanest warm clothes standing around her.

Every one of them could all use a bath, and there was a ton of laundry to do.

They had stopped, taking advantage of the lack of rain, to stretch their legs and cook a warm meal.

And so Brittany and Santana could get married.

Sam had acted as their officiate after he, Blaine, Rachel, Tina and Quinn had a rock paper scissors tournament to see who did it.

It was sweet, and nerdy because she didn't know exactly what he'd been quoting, but he had definitely quoted a bunch of stuff from a lot of things. (She totally did recognize the stuff from Firefly and Buffy though).

She stared at the two now, as they kissed as Sam introduced them to the motley crew gathered around them as "Mrs. And Mrs. Lopez" and tried to commit the image to memory so she could draw it later for Santana and Brittany.

None of them had a working cell phone or anything that could take pictures anymore, so it was up to her to preserve this somewhere other than their collective memories.

Rachel had made her promise to give Rachel's stick figure drawings to the couple first, then Quinn's actual drawings.

Quinn was really glad she wanted to get Santana back for the prank she'd pulled on Quinn's birthday. It meant...something. She wasn't quite sure what, but knew it was good.

Sometimes Rachel scared...well, maybe scared wasn't the right word. Sometimes Rachel _worried_ her -that there was this tough, practical, cut throat person had totally devoured everything that Rachel Berry was. Then she went and did something like dug out one of her adorable Rachel skirts and sweater combos to tempt a depressed Santana into talking again, even if she knew all Santana would do was be mean, or insist the kids had Shakespeare acted aloud to them since they needed some form of brain enrichment in lack of proper schooling.

She wondered, as she watch Santana and Brittany kiss again, if Rachel (who was taking a brief break from standing guard on top of the truck to congratulate Santana and Brittany -and to glare at Faith and June who didn't look comfortable. Marigold had tears in her eyes though, and kept saying how beautiful it was, so at least she wasn't like June and Faith) wanted to get married.

That thought made her hold the baby in her arms closer, and have to take a few calming deep breaths.

They hadn't even had sex yet.

What if it was as awful as sex with Puck and the skater (she couldn't even remember his name) had been. What if Rachel decided she didn't like Quinn like that after all and had just been lonely. What if. What if what if what if.

Rachel shot her a smile.

Quinn kept taking deep breaths.

It wasn't like they were going to get the chance for some alone time any time soon.

Even though Santana kept talking about stealing Puck's truck and having a week long honeymoon away from the group, the reality was they were going to be on the road a while (they were barely out of South Dakota at this point) and chances were they weren't going to have any privacy for some time.

This was something to worry about later.

Marriage wasn't something to even think about worrying about later. If they even wanted it -Rachel might not see the point. Quinn could go either way at this point, the thought was making her have to take deep breaths so...yeah.

Rachel, after a hug to Santana and Brittany both, went back to the roof of the truck. Brittany, after a hug with Quinn, carefully took the baby from her arms, and Santana, also after hugging Quinn, took Tiffany's hand.

The foursome stood together, letting Quinn soak in every detail while Sam, Stevie, Kyle, and Blaine pretended to take pictures with imaginary cameras.

Dorks.

"I think we can whip up a cake next time we stop? I feel like we should have cake," Santana was saying when a shot went out.

"That was just one of many zombies that are heading towards us," Rachel called out apologetically.

"I always figured shots would be fired at Santana's wedding," Sam said as he started herding the children towards the bus.

"There aren't even any _trees,_ where are the zombies coming from?" Violeta asked.

"We've been avoiding towns, closest one is miles and miles away, wouldn't think there'd be too many zombies out here, but maybe there's a house we aren't seeing?" Shawn told her as he assisted her onto the bus.

Santana and Brittany went to the truck, the baby in Theresa's borrowed car seat. They couldn't have a honeymoon, but at least they could have a bit of alone time.

It was Brittany's turn to drive Puck's truck anyway, so it worked out.

Rachel fired another shot with her rifle, then slid off the truck.

There was a frown on her face as she walked towards Quinn.

Quinn reached down and pushed a bit of hair that had come loose from Rachel's braid, "I need to braid your hair tighter next time."

Rachel shook her head tiredly, "That is the piece missing a chunk out of it, it still has not grown long enough to stop falling out. I should ask Santana to even it up, but frankly even after everything, I am fearful at the thought of her with scissors near my face. Quinn…I think…I am fairly certain," Rachel added in a whisper, "That the second zombie I shot was present at our last stop. Usually I don't pay enough attention to their looks to recognize one over another, but that one was wearing a rather hideous neon floral muumuu."

"You…you think they're following us? But…"

"I…yes. Perhaps it's the same homing instinct they've been presenting? Perhaps it's evolved? Making them faster, and less easily evaded? Or..I do not know, but it's frightening to think about."

"Yeah, yeah it is. We'll have to see what the others say."

"Next stop, so we can all be gathered together, " she said, then Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand.

A drop of water hit Quinn on the nose, and another drop on her glasses, as they walked back to the bus holding hands.

It was starting to rain again.

Quinn tried to forget the zombies, she tried to commit this moment to her memory as simply holding Rachel's hand at her best friends' wedding.

* * *

"So what does that mean, if those things are following us?" Marigold asked, then hummed a bit to the chicken in her arms. She had insisted the flock were mourning the loss of the chicken that had to be killed to help save Sludge and his wife, so they required one on one attention.

Marigold had, thus far, been the only one to give them the one on one attention she insisted they required.

Rachel was of the opinion that if they did not produce eggs and chicks in a few more months when spring was here for real, then they would be sent to the cooking pot. They were all mourning and struggling, but every one of them contributed. The chickens would not be the exception.

Rachel was also quite sure that Marigold's real name was not Marigold Lotus as she insisted.

"Is that unusual behavior for the demons?" June asked, wide eyed and looking at her feet. She had the tendency of doing that when she was in Sam's, Blaine's, or Sludge's presence. No doubt renaments of her time spent in a male dominated society.

"Will you stop calling them demons already?" Faith snapped, leaning against the side of the bus and crossing her arms over her pregnant stomach. The prairie gown combined with the stylish winter coat she was wearing making her look rather historically clashing.

"Usually they'd wander away if they don't realize you're there, or were quite and out of sight long enough, and definitely if you drive away." Sludge answered.

With a frown, no doubt thinking of her and Blaine's experience during their separation, Quinn added, "They _will_ follow you if you're on foot and not going fast enough to lose them, too." Then she jiggled Abby a bit, who was fighting off a simple cold and, in difference to her usual sunny and independent behavior, was clingy and grumpy.

"But yes, it is quite odd that now they are able to follow miles and miles when we are in a vehicle. It is very unusual indeed," Rachel frowned, and shifted Beth to her other side, who was glaring at Abby and Quinn and started wiggling a bit before Rachel starting rubbing little circles in her back.

How far Quinn -and Rachel, have come with Beth, Rachel thought as Quinn sighed, "So they're evolving or whatever. We're going to have to think about new defenses."

"Will we really have to think that much about it at the base?" Terri looked impatient, her eyes kept shifting from the bus to the road behind them to Marigold, who's very presence seemed to irritate Terri.

Marigold's whole persona irritated Rachel as well.

If she could have had her way, Marigold, June, and Faith would be dropped off at a secure location with three days food and water, and be forever out of their hair.

Rachel could grudgingly admit that Sludge had his uses (and if they kept him,_ obviously _they would keep his wife,) even if she would never end up liking the man, just on principal, but so far, besides a bit of skill with the chickens, fire building, and cooking, the three women were a burden they did not need. No one trusted any of the three to watch the children, so those offers had gone unheeded.

Lin at least, Rachel held a great deal of pity for. She was thousands of miles away from her home, in a land where not only did she speak the language, but she had been held prisoner by people who, according to Blaine, had treated her as a simpleton and servant. She had, at least, managed to avoid the same treatment in the hole that Brittany, Paisley, and Tina had gone through.

Paisley could stay as well -not only was she quite adapt at minding the children, she also was rather good with a weapon and could serve a turn at watch.

June, Faith, and Marigold were absolutely awful at putting down zombies.

So no, Rachel did not like them, nor did she want them staying with their group.

Especially when you consider they were apart of the organization that kidnapped, raped, and brainwashed women.

Even if they had eventually left said organization, there was the undercurrent of racism, and homophobia that everyone could feel from June and Faith.

Quinn had only looked at her with that look she wore whenever she felt Rachel was going too far when Rachel had tried to bring up removing the three from the group, so Rachel had dropped it.

Faith and June were attempting to be better after Santana had went off on June, so there was that at least.

"I am quite certain the military" Rachel said, then added "-even the _Canadian_ military," which brought forth more than a few snickers and laughs, "are on top of things, at least when it comes to defense. Anything else will remain to be seen. However, the weather may change, we may be unable to go forward for a time, so we should perhaps come up with our own defenses to combat the evolution to ensure our own safety should it become needed."

She did not trust the military any more then she would trust a stranger -but she had been outvoted and unable to come up with any other ideas both.

"Until then, we keep a lookout at all times, and we make sure the kids are in sight, and on the lookout too, at all times," Quinn nodded at Paisley, who nodded back.

Lin said something in rapid Cantonese to Blaine, who had been translating the conversation quietly to her. He replied, then translated, "She wants to know if there's any chance we will be able to stop and rest tonight. She thinks we all look very tired and that the constant movement doesn't let anyone sleep the best sleep," he finished carefully.

Quinn thought for a moment, then shook her head, "First time we stop and don't see any zombies and there's a house that's easily defensible, we can rest for a night. Otherwise, we stick to the plan and drive until we hit Canada. How are our supplies Rachel?"

"We have a gross over abundance of food items, that with proper rationing should last us, even with our new additions, and accounting for the needs of two fetuses, until roughly August. Our medical supplies are numerous, as is our ammunition. We will, in roughly three weeks, need to start attempting to find more formula but we should also be at the base by then so it is not a huge concern at the moment, nor is the fact that Kyle is on his last inhaler, but we should be on the lookout for more anyway just in case. We need to find time to boil and store our collected rain water, but once more, it is not a huge concern at the moment," Rachel said after a half second of reading notes off her clipboard after she pulled it out of Beth's diaper bag.

"Is there enough water to maybe clean up a little? Or do laundry?" Faith asked after a moment's of silence.

"Yes, that would be acceptable due to the continuous rain, if you or anyone who wishes to can manage as we drive, and with only the cold water. Please be very careful not to ingest it, just in case," Rachel nodded.

"I'm going to put purple streaks in Tiffany's and my hair," Brittany smiled, "Santana brought like all her boxes of hair dye with her if anyone else wants some?"

"Dibs on pink," Quinn said, electing a laugh. Rachel wondered just how long Quinn would be able to keep her hair pink. A while, likely, as long as they had water to use and there was dye to be found. Which, theoretically, there should be, as it was not exactly a high priority for people to grab hair dye, let alone pink hair dye.

"You want some Parsley? I've got blue and green left," Santana drawled at the younger girl, "Personally I think you should go with green, but blue will match your eyes."

Paisley grinned at Santana, and said, "Green's my favorite color. So green." Santana barked out a laugh, clearly surprised but glad that Paisley had agreed.

"Anyone else?" Santana asked, looking at Faith, Merigold, and June espeically with a smirk, almost daring any of the three to accept.

"I...if no one wishes to have the blue hair dye, then I would..I would like it," June said carefully, still looking down at the ground.

When no one voiced they wanted it -and goodness, had Rachel been tempted to claim it just so June couldn't have it, even if it wouldn't have shown up very well at all in her hair despite the hair lightener Santana had. Santana drawled, "Looks like it's yours. It's not going to be enough for your hair though, but someone can help you use it for streaks." Santana gestured at June's heavy looking long braid.

"Brittany mentioned you were..quite adept at cutting hair. I was wondering if perhaps you would cut mine? If it is almost as short as Brittany's sister's hair, that should be enough?" There was a sharp intake of breath from Faith, who obviously didn't know or like that June was going to both cut and dye her hair.

Rachel wondered if June was doing so in attempt to throw off the shackles of her upbringing, or to make the rest of the group like her a bit more.

Or perhaps both.

No matter what hair color she dyed her pale auburn locks, Rachel would _never_ accept her. Not after what horrors she had been a part of.

* * *

Brittany and Tina had been back with their family for 33 hours.

Nicholas was six days old.

They were taking the time to knock down some laundry, and give the kids a bath.

Brittany had just finished giving Nicholas his first real bath.

It was funny; when she had pictured giving their baby a bath for the first time, it was always in a brightly colored kitchen in the sink of their house.

Not in a huge frying pan in the middle of the road, people around them taking rag baths or doing laundry. Rachel had objected to stopping, but had finally stopped objects when Santana had pointed out it was good for morale, to Rachel's annoyance.

Lord Tubbington sat next to her feet as she finished drying Nicholas off, and watched Santana play with the kids, all of whom had gotten clean first.

Tiffany's purple hair made her easily findable in the group of kids, and it matched the bottom half of Brittany's hair. There had been enough left over in the dye bottle to give Sarah a few streaks of purple that didn't quite show up that well in her brown hair, but she had still giggled and said it looked cool, then had asked Rachel how to say that in Hebrew which had lead to them having a very basic conversation.

Brittany had wanted Tina to have the purple streaks so they'd kinda match, but she was pretty sure that would have made Santana upset so she offered them to Sarah instead.

Santana was doing her best to not let Brittany know she was irritated and jealous by how things were between she and Tina now, but Santana probably didn't realize how easy she was for Brittany to read. She'd always have been.

Santana wore her heart on her sleeve, she really did...it was just under spiky and scaly dragon skin body armor.

Terri was busy overseeing the laundry, Theresa and Dahlia in a portable playpen someone had dug up from the apartment and stashed in the house. She was delegating to Faith, Marigold, Violeta, and June. June's hair had turned out really pretty, even though the auburn color it was before had been pretty too -Santana had cut it almost shoulder length, then Brittany had helped her bleach it with a kit and dye it. It looked like the color of the sky now.

Well, the sky when the sun would out and the clouds were gone.

Sam and Blaine were taking a turn having their baths behind the drying sheets, and Shawn and Rachel and Quinn were on watch.

Well, Quinn was in the back of Puck's truck rolling a ball back and forth to Beth, Abby sitting in a pile of blankets clutching her favorite stuffed animal and Bacon, next to Quinn. The poodle kept licking her face every time she frowned, and Brittany wished she had a camera because it was adorable.

Quinn was talking to Rachel, who was standing on top of the truck's roof rotating the direction she was facing every two minutes.

Shawn was on the bus's roof keeping an eye out for zombies and on the kids and Santana as they ran around playing tag.

It looked like Paisley was it, and doing her best to tag Santana, her green hair also making her stand out a lot.

It made Brittany smile -obviously Paisley was still really sad about her family, but she was trying to be okay. That was all they could do, really, and it had taken them all a while to realize that.

Even though Brittany was only five years and seven months older then Paisley, it made her feel like she had decades on the now green haired girl.

"Kyle don't push yourself," Santana called out to the red-haired boy as he ran from Paisley.

"M'fine!" Paisley tagged him, and he sighed, took a puff from his inhaler, then started chasing a giggling Tiffany around, before Stevie ran past them in an obvious attempt to keep Tiffany from getting tagged, which would have happened soon because no matter how much it seemed she'd grown since Brittany had been gone, she was still only five and couldn't run that fast or far at a time.

Especially while she was giggling. Even for Kyle, who was obviously trying not to overdo it.

Kyle was starting to get a bit red in the face, and Stevie noticed, and slowed down just enough for Kyle to barely tag him.

Kyle cheered, then took another puff of his inhaler as Stevie took off after Santana.

"Fishboy, you aren't catching me!" Santana shouted, then stopped, putting her hands on her hips in a classic Wonder Woman pose, and laughed overdramatically, "Mwhahahaha" before taking off again just as Stevie was about to tag her.

"Hurricane, Detective Pierce, get her!" Stevie shouted, and Kyle and Tiffany immediately started running after Santana, who slowed down so that the pair wouldn't have to run hard.

Sarah stopped running to watch, and Stevie tagged her, hard. Sarah stumbled a bit. "Sorry Sarah! But you're it!" and ran after Santana with the other two.

Sarah yelled, "It's okay!", then started chasing after Santana as well.

In her arms, Nicholas started fussing, and Brittany pulled the two now moist towels off of him, and quickly put a diaper on him after rubbing on some of the homemade diaper cream that had been packed for him at the compound. She rummaged through the bag of clothes Terri had offered when they were packing to leave that Theresa had grown out of, and finally picked a pale yellow onesie, that she layered under a footed sleeper in a pale blue color. She checked his umbilical cord, noted it looked like how June said it should, then dressed him.

She finished up by wrapping him like a burrito in the knit blanket that June said she'd made for Anne's baby herself, and gave him to Terri who put him at a breast. She had very nicely offered to feed him once or twice a day to help stretch the formula out.

The kids were still trying to catch Santana, so, after putting away everything, with a grin, Brittany jumped in, catching Santana with a kiss.

When Santana started to pull away, Brittany held onto her just long enough for Sarah to tag her.

Brittany pulled away from the kiss and jumped away from Santana in the exact moment Sarah yelled, "Santana's it!"

"Et tu, Brute" Santana pretended to look mad as the kids, Midnight, and Churchill danced away and around her.

Brittany laughed, and stuck her tongue out at Santana.

Brittany felt amazing.

* * *

"Well, crap." Quinn stared at the car in front of her.

"Crap crap crap," Abby and Beth both repeated her.

Whoops.

The car was the first in many of a long long line of cars ahead of them, as far as she could see.

She slid her glasses up her nose, and frowned.

They had started passing more and more cars parked on the side of the road, so it made sense that it's end up being a giant traffic jam.

Didn't make it suck less.

"I'll be right back, okay?" She told the girls as she turned the truck off, and hopped out, then held the door open so that Bacon and Churchill could jump out, helping the poodle down when he balked at jumping out of the truck.

Shawn was stepping out of the bus by the time she walked back to it, Stevie, Kyle, and Midnight behind him.

"Watch the dogs too please," she mumbled to them, and both boys nodded, then starting tossing a ball back and forth making the dogs dance excitedly around their feet.

"How far's the road block?" Shawn asked with no preamble as soon as the boys weren't paying attention.

"As far as I can see," Quinn sighed.

Shawn nodded, and rubbed the back of his neck. "We're about an hour out of Minneapolis. Wouldn't surprise me if it stretched that far. Probably worse the closer we get, too."

"There's almost three and a half million people in the Minneapolis St. Paul area," Violeta said as she carefully stepped out of the bus.

"And likely most of 'em were trying to get out of the city," Shawn finished.

"We're already had to back track once due to flooding," Rachel was behind Violeta. Behind her Santana followed, and then Brittany holding Nicholas, "We can backtrack once more and attempt a different route." Tina and Sam followed behind them, June, Faith, Terri, Sarah, Tiffany, Blaine holding his sister, and Marigold trailing after them.

"Can you guys get Beth and Abby out of the truck?" Quinn called, and Paisley and Sarah nodded.

Quinn didn't think it was that good of an idea for everyone to leave the bus, and judging by the look on Rachel's face she didn't either -but they hadn't had a chance to stretch their legs since yesterday night. Everyone was going a little stir crazy, and the kids especially needed to run around a little and make some noise.

They were kids. They deserved the chance to act like kids sometimes.

Sam immediately went to hop onto the top of the bus to act as lookout, while the girls went to get Beth and Abby, then join the boys in playing with the dogs. The rest of them gathered in a semi-circle.

"I bet it's all the same on all the roads, everyone trying to leave. Maybe a car crashed. Whatever." Santana shrugged.

"It's odd that all the vehicles are pointing the direction we wished to go, in both lanes, and not the other way," Rachel mused.

Quinn watched the kids playing for a second, then stared at the side of the road, "Maybe we could just drive next to the road?"

"With all the rain we've gotten the last 72 hours? Bus'll sink in the mud, get stuck," Shawn shrugged, wrapping his arm around his wife.

"We could always try? I mean, we're going to end up walking anyway aren't we?" Santana muttered as Beth ran into her legs, and she reoriented the toddler around. Beth immediately ran towards Sarah, Abby running from chasing Churchill around to run after her cousin.

"Walking," Quinn stated flatly, "We're not going to be able to carry much are we?"

Which was a problem -they had a lot of food, and a lot of medicine. Not to mention their own personal stuff.

Santana's bear skin blanket weighed a ton and it'd be a shame to have to leave it behind.

"Kids you're getting too far away!" Terri yelled at them. They had run as a pack, a far bit down the road -further then anyone was comfortable with.

"We've got the bikes, they can hold stuff," Tina pointed out.

"And we can use them to scout ahead," Brittany added.

"They're loud though," June tentatively offered.

Brittany nodded, "I know. I grabbed some kits to get them really quiet. It'll take a few hours each to install though."

"Zombies," Sam called.

"Come back to the bus, _now!_" Terri hollered at the kids. Sarah picked up Beth, grabbed Abby's hand, and the group started making their way back, Stevie half carrying Midnight and Paisley had Tiffany's hand. Brittany made a clucking noise with her mouth, and Churchill and Bacon started running towards her.

Quinn started for the zombies, pulling out her machete. Sam headed for them as well. There was maybe a dozen, slowly shambling up the road the way they had come. Easily dealt with just the two of them, then hopefully they would have time to figure out what they were going to do.

It was _really_ worrying that they had caught up to them so fast.

It'd take them weeks to get to the base on foot -and that's assuming the weather didn't decide to spit out snow at them, then it could take months.

It'd be horrible -they wouldn't be able to stay at one place very long.

But maybe the zombies wouldn't be able to find them if they weren't in a vehicle? Maybe the engines were too loud or vibrating or something.

She passed the kids, and shot Sarah and Paisley a smile.

At this point, twelve zombies were basically nothing to worry about.

She started hacking and slashing, shoving the tip expertly into a zombie's eye socket and dropping one after another.

There was a horrible noise, then half a second later, a terrible scream.

Then more screaming.

She turned to look, and that's when it happened.

A zombie was biting her exposed wrist.

She stared at it for a second.

No. No. No. No.

Sam was running back to the others.

She felt like she was going to pass out.

There were just four zombies left, including the one that was still gripping her wrist with its teeth.

There was so much screaming.

Rachel was yelling for them to run.

Rachel.

She should go say goodbye to Rachel.

To Santana. To Brittany.

To Beth. Her poor sweet baby was an orphan now.

Quinn didn't have much time.

There were four zombies left; she wouldn't be selfish. She'd do something good with her last few minutes.

It wouldn't make up for the bad.

But it was all she could do.

She slide the machete through the zombies eye socket hard.

It still latched on.

In fact, it started to pull away.

It was trying to _eat_ her _flesh._

Why wasn't it dying?

Did she die already and this was hell?

Vague memories of a zombie and rock went through her.

Right. Weird mutant zombies.

She let out a giggle that would have sounded a little insane if anyone had been listening instead of screaming.

Why were they screaming.

Why were they still screaming?!

She started hacking away at the zombie's neck.

The spin severed, the zombie let go, and fell limp to the ground.

She started attacking the remaining three with a burst of energy -if she killed them quick enough, she'd still have time to say goodbye.

Finally, the last zombie fell to the ground.

She turned towards the others, everything blurry because she'd had her glasses knocked off her face at some point.

Her world went black.

* * *

"We could get some wheels and jerry rig a couple of wagons to pull kids in? If only there was a Toy's R Us, we could get a bunch of those little red wagons, " Santana suggested quietly as Sam and Quinn went to deal with the zombies. "Or...we…could…" she trailed off as from the horizon, a giant car sized sphere appeared and flew towards them.

It hovered, before, after a brief humming noise, a weird rainbow colored light appeared out of it.

No one said anything.

No one moved -even the children, half way back to the bus and the rest of the group, stood still.

Whatever the rainbow light was, it hit Stevie first.

It took several seconds for them to realize it was burning the boy and the dog in his arms both.

That was several seconds too late.

It burned through him, and his limp body fell to the ground, the limp puppy in his arms falling besides him, ashes floating away from their bodies, pavement showing through the hole burned through Stevie's body.

Santana realized she was screaming.

They were all screaming.

Another laser appeared from the giant sphere. Then another. And another.

They were all going to die.

Santana was running towards the kids.

She wanted to puke.

There was no time.

Rachel was screaming to run, and if Santana had the time or the breath, she'd point out that everyone was smart enough to figure that out.

Her knee was starting to tinge with pain. Even her arm wound was starting to make its presence known, despite being healed.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she was opening her mouth to yell at Sarah to move (the girl had stood still, gaping at Stevie's remains), when the weapon turned on her.

Sarah screamed. Beth, who was clutched in Sarah's arms, screamed too.

Without thinking, she was there, and she grabbed both girls.

It smelled like burnt flesh.

Both girls were still screaming.

Sarah had a nasty burn on her chest.

Beth had one on her back, shoulder, and upper arm.

But they were alive.

Grasping Sarah's hand firmly, Santana went to get the other kids but then she saw Shawn.

Shawn had Abby in his arms. He had Kyle next to him. Paisley was running towards the bus.

Tiffany.

_Where was Tiffany. _

She stood still, looking at the tiny body on the ground a few feet away from Stevie's body.

Bright purple hair stood out starkly against the pavement and ash that coated the road.

No. No.

_No._

She stood there, unable to move until a clearly pained Sarah screamed, "Santana!"

Last time she had abandoned Tiffany, she had been sure that the little girl would die. And she had hated herself for it.

This time, Tiffany was already dead.

And she still hated herself.

She ran, pulling Sarah with her, screaming at the girl to hold tightly onto Santana's hand, and Beth, no matter how much it hurt either of them.

Santana was never going to get that tiny purple haired corpse out of her head.

That was an image that was going to haunt her.

God was a dick, and he was cruel. Brittany had only been back for three days, _barely,_ and God had taken her sister from her.

Brittany didn't deserve that. Tiffany certainly didn't.

Santana wished she'd been killed instead.

* * *

The wood was smooth in her hands as she clutched the shovel.

She was taking her turn digging.

Every so often she would stop for a moment, to catch her breath and dart a glance at Quinn's prone form.

The pink haired girl was feverish, wrapped up in a blanket curled up inbetween the motocross bikes in the back of the truck.

There was rope and chain wrapped around her, ensuring that should -_when_ she turned, she would easily be dealt with.

It had been over an hour now.

An _hour._

Sam still sat next to his brother's corpse.

Brittany was still sobbing next to her sister's body, Tina sitting inches away from her.

Sarah and Santana sat next to Abby's blanket covered form, the latter sending jealous looks at Tina when she wasn't staring sadly at Brittany, as she held their baby.

Terri, despite her own burn injuries, was hacking up the fallen zombies over and over with Quinn's machete. The woman had started to break windows in the first car in front of them, but Rachel had stopped her, citing noise and possible zombies in vehicles.

Terri hadn't answered. She had simply dropped the hammer she had picked up from the toolbox in Puck's truck, and walked back to the bodies, grabbing the machete along the way.

Theresa's small form was covered in Terri's coat.

June sat limply by Marigold's body, her knife clutched loosely in her hand, her eyes darting around in horror. Her blue hair had splatters of blood in it.

The woman had been bitten by a zombie that had crawled out from under the car in front of them.

Blaine had started to put her down after taking care of the crawler, but Rachel had stopped him.

She had handed a hunting knife to June, and told her to put her friend down after Marigold had turned.

Rachel wondered if she regretted leaving her father's compound.

They couldn't coddle anyone. Especially not now.

Blaine was sitting next to where she was digging, taking a break and sitting with Dahlia, wincing every so often. The laser had turned on him, and being the person he was, he'd turned so that Dahlia wasn't hit, taking a blast on almost his entire right side before managing to jump out of the way.

Lin, Sludge and his wife were sitting next to Paisley, Beth and Kyle. Bacon and Churchill were at their feet.

Everyone was covered in bandages, injured from the lasers in some form or another. Or in Violeta's case, she had been shoved pretty hard out of the way and had cuts and scrapes, plus her ankle and knee and wrist were bothering her.

But she was burn free.

Rachel had a nasty, painful burn on her shoulder from where she had been holding Abby.

Abby had been burned in the throat, and had not survived for more than a few minutes after the whatever it was had gone away. If it hadn't gone when it had, Rachel would be dead as well.

Rachel was almost certain it had gone away because Blaine had killed the last zombie after Quinn had taken care of the rest.

If she was right, that meant that the zombies signaled or lead the…object to them.

To be killed.

As if the zombies themselves weren't bad enough.

If her hypothesis was correct, then they needed to leave soon before any zombies showed up.

Chances are there would be zombies trapped in the miles and miles of vehicles ahead of them.

And it would be dark soon.

Rachel was scared that if they stayed the night in the bus, they would awake to dozens of zombies and that sphere again.

So they would _have to_ leave.

Soon.

But first, they bury their dead.

Abby

Tiffany

Stevie

Midnight

Theresa

Faith

Marigold

And somehow, Lord Tubbington's tail had been burned off as well, so it would be buried as well.

Brittany was too busy mourning her sister to mourn the tail -the cat himself was still hissing at them all, and cowering under the bus. Tina had given up trying to bandage it for now.

It was all they could do.

She refused to allow herself another look at Quinn.

From everything they knew -even Sludge and his wife, and what utterly little June knew, once you were bitten you had minutes.

_Minutes. _

Here it was over an hour, and Quinn was, ill, but alive.

_Alive. _

Rachel wanted to believe that somehow, Quinn was immune. Or that the zombie's bite posed no threat any more.

But this was a world with a harsh reality.

Dreams were not something you could indulge in, not in this world, not anymore.

When they started walking -they would have to leave Quinn on the bus.

Beth was very badly burned, Sarah was barely better, and they all injuries of some sort. Tina had a sprained ankle and Sam had injured his hand punching a car over and over until Blaine had noticed and with Sludge, stopped him; it would be difficult enough for them to travel.

Quinn was a danger.

Quinn was a burden.

A _dangerous_ burden.

Rachel had to assure herself that Quinn was already dead; it would be foolish to drag her along with them.

There was only that tiny sliver of hope that kept Rachel from ending Quinn's suffering now, before the girl had turned.

(That, and she was certain that if she made any motion to end Quinn's life before she turned, Santana would take the opportunity to take her sadness and frustrations out on Rachel. As if Rachel was not feeling her own deep sadness and frustrations at the moment.)

Of course, in the morning before they moved on, Rachel herself would, (likely accompanied by Santana) return and check on the pink haired girl.

If she was still alive -still human, then, maybe, Rachel would allow herself to believe that Quinn would be okay.

Quinn would have to be watched at all times; and Rachel had to decide on how long they would use medical resources on her, if she did not show signs of getting...better.

Blaine set his sister down in a box -an effective, if not crude, way to corral the toddler since no one had thought to grab the portable play pen, and with a near silent grunt of pain, reached an arm down to help pull her out of the hole.

Her shoulder felt like it was on fire.

She felt like an over cooked piece of meat, left on the grill too long.

That was like nothing compared to the burden that sat on her shoulders, and the deep sense of loss she felt.

* * *

"I can't believe you're being all logical and rational and crap. That's Quinn; we're leaving Quinn behind. If she was going to turn, she would have by now," Santana muttered under her breath, glaring at Rachel, then behind them, at Tina who Brittany was leaning against, the pair limping together forward.

They were walking.

Rachel had Mack's duffel bag on her back, Beth's things, blankets, and a sleeping bag tied to the top.

She also had the messenger bag filled with ammo slung on her good side, and her rifle on the other

In a makeshift sling from a sheet in her front was Beth.

The toddler had been doused with their alcohol supply; all the remaining children had, to deal with their pain since they didn't have the time for Tina to look through their medical supplies and find the items that would be safe for children, the proper doses for said items, and any other information they needed to know before they started messing around with painkillers.

Even Nicholas and Dahlia had been dosed with booze, despite them being the only two people in the group uninjured. It kept them quiet and sleepy, and that's what they needed them to be right now.

She hoped it wouldn't affect any of them developmentally.

She felt over burdened, but there were so many people, so many things they needed to take.

She had almost insisted they all empty their own personal bags of everything but two changes of clothing, ten pairs of underwear and socks, basic toiletries and one or two person items so that the remaining room could be used on food.

But she already felt like a heartless monster leaving Quinn on the bus, and there had already been so much loss already that it would wait.

She had instead simply purged her own personal items -keeping exactly four changes of clothing, one pair of pajamas, ten pairs of socks, ten pairs of underwear, three bras, her father's undershirts, and of course her coat.

She had left behind her shoes besides Mack's boots, which she were wearing.

She had left behind the huge photo album, after selecting ten photos to keep from it, keeping them in the six books she had deemed needed.

The quilt was wrapped up with the other blankets in her sleeping bag.

The room freed up in her army duffle, she had put their bags of rice and beans.

And then removed them, because it hurt too darn much to have that additional weight.

It felt like the only thing that remained of Rachel Barbra Berry, future Broadway Star, was the gold star necklace she still had, her fathers' rings still strung on it.

She was just Rachel.

Survivor.

And she was the one who had to make the hard choices, had to push the injured people around her, the _mourning_ people around her, into burying their dead, gathering their things, and leaving a friend behind.

The bus was still in view.

They could go get Quinn right now.

Or they could stay with the bus.

Rachel sighed, "I do not want to watch her be in that state, Santana. And she had made it clear to both of us that she would prefer to turn before…we take care of her. And we simply cannot take her with us -we are barely managing to carry enough food and water for a couple of days. And there are the other injured to take care of as well."

"I guess you don't love Quinn; what, were you just lonely or something. You moving on to Sam next? Or Lin maybe?" Santana started walking slower, obviously done with the conversation. Her words were mean, but her tone was sad.

Rachel turned around, and glared at the girl.

"I love Quinn. It is killing me that she's behind on the bus, and tomorrow, when I see her, she'll be one of those things. The group has already lost so many Santana, and we are all injured, we are all tired, we are all scared. Someone has to make the hard choices, and that mantle has fallen upon my shoulders," Rachel hissed.

She took a deep breath, and in a more gentle tone added, "I know you are hurting right now Santana. And I know that your standard way of dealing with pain is to vent your frustrations out on others. Or sit in cold apartments sewing a quilt," At Santana's look, Rachel snorted softly, not something she tended to do but the situation warranted it, "Of course I knew Santana. Since that is not an option, I realize your go to is venting against others and I am your favorite target. But, frankly, I do not have time nor the inclination to deal with your verbal abuse _Santana Lopez._ If you wish to deal with your frustrations, then walk ahead of the group and kill any zombies that are trapped in a vehicle; I am quite certain if they know we are here, that contraption knows we are as well so it very well could come back."

Santana cursed rapidly in Spanish, then shook her head, "Why don't we just get off the road and walk like ten, fifty feet, whatever, along the side. Keep it in sight, so we don't lose the bus, but far enough away they can't like, point us out to the UFO."

Rachel pursed her lips together and let out an annoyed breath. Just when she was unraveling the last strings holding the rope of her tolerance of Santana, she redeems herself by thinking of something Rachel didn't.

Clearly Rachel was far more tired than she realized.

"We do not know it is a UFO. Aliens are a ridiculous concept. But I concede that your idea is sound," Rachel started, walking carefully, to lead the group off the road, and everyone behind her, even Santana followed without comment.

"UFO stands for 'Unidentified Foreign Object.' That thing was definitely that Rachel, doesn't mean it's aliens." Santana finally said after they had been trudging slowly through the mud and soft grass, then she half turned, and looked at Sam who was trudging a bit behind them, Kyle, with glazed eyes, following next to him. Santana sighed, and muttered, "I wish I could wave a magic wand and made him and Brittany feel better."

"Time is the only thing that can make this better; even then, it will still be with you..." Rachel said tiredly, then trailed off.

She expected a comment about it, but Santana was silent.

Clearly Santana was exhausted and heart heavy as well.

* * *

They had been walking for hours; Rachel estimated, given standard walking speeds, their belongings, their injuries, and the younger among them, (despite Sludge carrying Sarah, Kyle and Paisley for a bit to give them a rest,) they had walked between five to ten miles. Most likely on the lower side.

It would be dark within the hour.

They had yet to see anything besides vehicles on the road.

Rachel was just starting to think they would have to make camp in an abandoned Semi, or if they were lucky enough an R.V. when she saw the train.

But more importantly, she saw the smoke coming from one of the train cars.

People.

"Sludge, Blaine, get your weapons ready, we're going to clear the train. Santana, please take Beth," she stopped, and said to them. "Tina, June, Paisley, Violeta, Lin, you are on watch. I do not care if it is only one zombie, at first sighting, gather what you can and very carefully get on the last train car."

As Blaine relayed her words to Lin, Santana had to help her unload all the items she was carrying, before she could give the burned toddler to her.

Beth wailed a little, and Tina was already digging through one of the two giant duffle bags that contained their medical supplies.

She had her hunting knife strapped to one leg, Quinn's machete strapped to the other, and her rifle slung across her back.

One way or another, they were staying on that train tonight.

As they walked a careful path through the cars across the road, towards the train, Sludge moved in front of her and Blaine, "You two are hurt worse than I am, probably a good idea if I'm in front of you," he muttered.

"Very well. Do try to stay out of my rifle's firing path, should it come to that," Rachel agreed.

He snorted, and said, "I'll try."

They walked in silence, heading towards the train car that had the smoke coming from it to handle that first. They only needed one train car. Perhaps if they weren't so injured and disheartened they would have simply moved to the closest train car instead of first directing their attentions to whomever was on the train at the moment.

They could not be caught unawares by people, not now.

Finally, they stood at the door to the train car.

Rachel grabbed her rifle in her hands, and stepped forward ready to make this fast and get their people safe for the night.

"Slow down cowboy, how about we knock first and see how things go from there," Sludge muttered, and gently on her uninjured side, nudged her away from the door.

He stepped forward, and knocked loudly.

It took a moment, but the door swung open, automatically making the steps swing down from the base of the train.

A boy -around their age stood in the door way, naked from the waist up and rubbing a towel over his wet hair.

The first thing she noticed was that he was tall, almost a foot taller then Rachel herself. The second thing she noticed was his model like cheekbones -he was incredibly handsome. The third thing she noticed was his green eyes.

It sent a little pang through her, because it reminded her of Quinn.

The fourth thing was his smirk.

He smirked at first Sludge, then Rachel, and finally Blaine.

When he saw Blaine, his smirk shifted to a confused look, before, finally, he laughed.

"Out of all the places, in all the United States, I never expected I'd see the great Blaine Anderson in Minnesota," he all but purred, his mouth twisting into a very attractive smile.

Blaine seemed unable to form words.

"How do you know who Blaine is?" Sludge wasn't one to mince words.

The boy turned his grin to Sludge, toning it down only slightly, "I'm Sebastian Smyth, and I attended Dalton and took over the Warblers after Blaine left. I heard all about him from them. They adored him." He tossed the towel to the side, and sighed, "It's a shame I didn't get more than a few months with them."

Rachel stared at the healed over bite mark above his elbow.

The bite mark had been previously covered by the towel and his movements as he dried his hair.

Bite mark.

A healed bite mark.

"What...what is that?" She hated the tremble in her voice.

He shrugged theoretically, and smirked at her again, "That old thing? I was bit along with most of the Warblers and students at Dalton. I'm immune."

Blaine let out a little sob that he quickly contained.

"Immune?" She breathed out.

"Aunty and I stopped at Fort Knox -apparently a certain portion of the population is immune, goes by blood type," he shrugged again, "The military didn't think it was a huge deal, and just took some blood, then pumped me full of antibiotics and told me to rest. They had other things on their mind."

"I am going to need to see some form of proof that you actually attended Dalton," Rachel said, trying to keep her tone even and calm.

"The bite mark from Nick isn't enough?" Sebastian asked.

At the mention of Nick's name, Blaine let out a soft sigh of defeat.

"No. As I was saying, I will need to see proof you actually attended Dalton, to meet your Aunty assuming she is in there with you -and then we will need your assistance to gather our group members and bring them here," Rachel's mind was racing.

Immune.

_Immune._

"What makes you think I want you and your group around?" Sebastian snorted. Then he practically purred out, "Blaine of course can stay. Once a warbler, always a warbler."

Sebastian was nudged out of the way, and a tall, stocky looking woman stood in the doorway, "Sebastian Smyth, of course we're letting them stay! Oh hello I'm Stella Smyth. Sebastian go put on a shirt, and be gentle when you move Mr. Snuffles off your backpack."

As Stella talked at them, clealy happy for someone new to talk to, Rachel tried to figure out just how fast she could return and get Quinn.

Quinn needed antibiotics.

Quinn needed them.

Rachel needed Quinn.

* * *

**A/N: **

RIP:

Abby (Quinn's niece)

Tiffany (Brittany's sister)

Stevie (Sam's brother)

Theresa (Terri and Mr. Schue's baby)

Violeta's Aunt

Faith (and her unborn baby.) (OC -from the cult)

Marigold (OC -from the cult)

Lord Tubbington's Tail

Midnight (yellow lab)

Quinn is immune! I hope that nasty bite mark worried you. ;) Good thing they got all those antibiotics at the veterinary clinic. And yes, the red-haired girl Quinn put out of her misery in chapter 28 at the clinic was_ also_ immune, which, if you reread that section, seems obvious in hindsight now doesn't it? Quinn killed her for no reason and poor Quinn's going to have a lot to deal with when she's not battling an infection.

Oh also **aliens.** I knew right away when I started writing this story that aliens would be behind the zombies. They aren't quite good at it -hence people with a certain blood type are immune, the sickness they sent out to try to get the humans left alive (the flu like thing that killed Christopher, even the people at the Vet Clinic mentioned getting it -it was world wide,) was cured with fluids, antibiotics, and rest and only a certain percentage of zombies are really scary dangerous ones.

So the aliens stepped up their game.

**Welcome to hard mode. **

A reviewer for last chapter asked for a character list with ages and relationships. I was going to PM them, but I knew I was going to kill off a lot of children people this chapter, so I held off because it wouldn't have been current.

Here we are:

Quinn Fabray, 18

Daughter Beth Louise Jackie Fabray, 21 months

Brittany S. Lopez, 17

Santana Lopez, 18

Son Nicholas M. Lopez, 6 days

Tina Cohen-Chang, 17

Sam Evans, 17

Rachel Berry, 17

Sarah Puckerman, turning 10 in a month

Blaine Anderson, 18

Dahlia Anderson, 11 months

Terri Del Monico 34

Nephew Kyle, 9

Shane "Sludge" Lyall, 36

Wife Violeta Lyall, 29, pregnant 6 months

Sebastian Smyth 18

Aunt Stella Smyth 41

June Tharpe, 21

Qian "Lily" Lin, 23

Paisley Fuller, 13

Lord Tubbington

Bacon the Poodle

Churchill the German Sheppard

Mr. Snuffles, a white Persian cat/bane of Sebastian's existence.


	36. Lean On

"I want to be the one to stay with Quinn tonight. It makes more sense for one person to stay with her tonight, then for a couple of people to go get her when we need to go back and get supplies anyway," Santana said as soon as their entire group was in that ferret faced giant's train car. His name started with an S, but Santana couldn't be bothered to try to remember what Rachel had said it was.

Rachel had that look on her face that she got when she thought you were an idiot and needed to be set straight by her.

"Hobbit, just because you and Quinn are rubbing lady boners together doesn't mean that," Santana clinched her jaw, and sighed, "Look, Brittany doesn't want me right now. And I just can't be here without being with her, okay? So please let me go be with Quinn tonight, and tomorrow Brittany will want me. Hopefully. Please. And I won't say I told you so, even thought I totally did."

It wasn't like she'd known Quinn was immune. She had just hoped really hard, and maybe even prayed a little.

The dick that was God had listened apparently.

It wasn't like she could gloat or anything, anyway.

Tiffany was dead.

"I know I was a bitch earlier, but…I just need to get away okay?" Santana added softly.

Rachel gave her a stony look, "Nor shall you taunt me about it, or imply that I do not love Quinn because I was forced to make a very difficult decision for the sake of the group."

Santana nodded. "Can you -and Tina, probably, watch Nicholas? Brittany...is yeah. And I don't want to risk bringing him with me."

Rachel glared at her, and Santana rolled her eyes, "Because chances are in the morning there's going to be a few dozen zombies around the bus, not because I think Quinn's going to have some baby back ribs."

Rachel sighed, "I apologize. Of course I will watch him. I imagine Tina and the other's will be a great help."

After double checking with Tina, and then having Blaine translate for Lin, even though June looked like a kicked puppy and would have probably helped too, Santana went to the corner of the train car where Sam was curled up on the seat, leaning forward resting his head awkwardly on the seat in front him.

Tina was getting the stuff Quinn needed together, and wanted to look at her ribs where she'd gotten burnt, and make sure there was nothing gross the scrapes she'd gotten without even noticing.

She'd tried talking to Sam a few times on their walk.

This sucked. She didn't even know what to say.

"Sam." She flopped into the seat next to him, and said low, so no one else would hear her, "I don't understand. I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, we knew them, and then now there's bodies, and I don't understand why they can't just get back in it and not be dead any more. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. Brittany's crying and not talking, you're not talking. And we don't know _why._"_*_ She sniffled a bit, biting back a sob. Crying wasn't going to solve anything.

He turned, and stared at her.

He didn't smile.

He didn't say anything.

He unfolded himself off the seat, leaned forward, and hugged her.

She hugged him back.

Her side hurt. She was sure his back and hand hurt.

Before she knew it, she was crying.

And so was he.

* * *

Her shoulder hurt. It sent a throb of pain radiating throughout her entire body that had been intensified by the burdens she carried their walk.

Quinn was going to live.

They would heal, they would rest, and they would continue towards their goal.

She could only imagine the pain Beth was in; she had liberally dozed the toddler with whiskey and it had kept her relatively quiet and sleepy. Hopefully it kept the pain at bay as well.

Stella Smyth was a veterinarian, and had quickly taken over checking their wounds from Tina. Santana had been first, then sent on her way back to Quinn, Paisley trailing behind her because the green haired girl had pointed out it'd be smart to have another person so they could take turns watching during the night.

Beth was third after Paisley.

As Stella worked on Beth's burns, she chattered as she frowned at the wound. The rest of them set about figuring out sleeping areas, and getting some much needed food made.

"These_ are_ burns, but…weird," Stella muttered.

Quinn was going to live. Even now, as a medical professional checked over Beth, that thought drummed its way through Rachel.

Rachel was hovering next to her.

She did not know this woman, and she was not about to go more than a few feet away from Beth.

"How so?" Rachel enquired as she started pulling out a change of clothing for Beth with her good arm.

Stella looked up at her from her position on the floor, and frowned, "Normally, when it's charred like that…well, there's no saving the burned part. I'm sorry, but with the amount of fourth degree burns on this toddler, she should be dead. However…while it looks terrible, it is, a far as I can tell, not penetrating the layers of skin, so it's not actually fourth degree. It'll scar, but she'll live. Even without a hospital and an actual Doctor."

"Is she in pain?"

Rachel certainly was.

Stella nodded, "That's another thing. Usually with third or fourth degree burns, there's no pain because the nerves have been burned as well as everything else. But you are all in pain, with varying degrees of burn. It's…weird."

"Maybe that lasers are designed to cause pain?" Blaine said quietly from where he was setting up bedding a bit away from Rachel.

Stella sighed, "Your brother might be right. Those…sphere's are something else. I don't think the degree of pain you're feeling is what you should actually be feeling with burns. I saw that load you were carrying back to the train, there's frankly no way you would have been able to manage it if you had a…proper, for lack of a better word, third or fourth degree burn. As soon as I'm done with her, I want to look you over. Then you two can get some sleep, you look like death warmed over."

Neither Rachel nor Blaine bothered to correct her. Rachel was too tired, now that she knew Quinn would be alive in the morning she wanted nothing more than to have a cry and then a hopefully dreamless sleep.

Lin was taking the first few shifts with Nicholas, and Tina was taking the next few because she wasn't injured that badly.

* * *

_"Burt needs me to work over time this week," Finn shoveled his dinner into his mouth so fast Rachel was quite sure he wasn't even tasting it. Which rankled, because she'd spent extra time, despite the children and household chores, on it, wanting tonight's meal to be special. _

_She was fairly certain he'd forgotten what tonight was, "Very well, even if you've been working over time the last two months. Burt does realize you have children and a wife who enjoy spending time with you?" _

_Finn swallowed, and grinned at her, "That's why I'm getting the overtime and not any of the single guys." _

_"Well, it can only help," Rachel turned up the baby monitor's volume, then sat down at her chair, where her untouched dinner sat, "I have started looking at apartment's in New York, trying to maintain an equilibrium between price and area. I-" _

_Finn looked at her with a frown, "New York? Uh, why Rachel?" _

_She sighed. _

_Clearly, he _had_ forgotten. _

_"Today is our fifth anniversary. And you promised me that we would move to New York in our Fifth year of marriage, Finn, so that I may continue my dreams of Broadway. A dream I put off because we got married."_

_Finn shoved his plate away, "Rachel, we have two kids. When I saw the fancy dinner I thought you were going to tell me you were pregnant with the third baby we've been trying for. Why aren't we enough for you?" _

_She took a deep breath, "Finn, there is no reason I cannot have it all. You, our family, and Broadway. It will take a lot of work, from us both, but once we're in New York -" _

_He shook his head, "Rachel, I'm not going to New York. And you aren't taking the kids. If you want Broadway, you're picking it over us." _

_"You _promised_," she hated the thread of desperation in her voice. _

_"I was a dumb kid. I'm a man, now, and we have to do what's best for our kids. Our family." Whatever words she was about to say died in her throat, and he continued, "Do you think it'd be good for the kids to be tossed in daycare, while I work even more just to pay for a New York apartment while we never see you because you'll be busy rehearsing? God, how selfish are you? You're a mother now Rachel, it's time to think about someone other than yourself." _

_Their youngest started crying, and without another word to her, he stood up and left the table. _

_She put her face into her hands, and sobbed._

Rachel woke up with tears on her face. It took her a moment to realize it had been a dream.

Just a dream.

She sat up carefully in the front row of train seats she'd claimed for her own -after pushing the arms up.

Beth was in a nest on the floor, and was still sleeping. Next to her, Sarah (with the poodle in her arms) and Kyle were sleeping in their sleeping bags.

Despite the odd…she wasn't even sure it could be called a nightmare, the_ dream_ she'd had, she felt much better this morning. Well rested, and ready to face the day.

Because she knew she would not return to the bus to find Quinn a zombie.

It was amazing how having that knowledge made her feel so…chipper.

Likely it was a form of shock or some such thing from her wound and yesterday's events.

She reached into her messenger bag, and pulled out her clipboard.

There had been some hopeful talk of getting the train running and driving it up as far as they could.

Rachel had no idea how to drive a train. She highly suspected no one else did either.

She was neatly writing notes on how much of their supplies to gather when they returned to the bus, depending on if they were walking verses riding the train when Beth woke up with a little sob.

"Shah, shah, I'm here," Rachel cooed to the toddler. Mindful of Beth's burn, which spanned from her back, to her right shoulder, to her upper arm, Rachel set about trying soothe toddler as she changes her bandages, put her in clean clothing, and changed her diaper.

Any progress they had made towards potty training Beth had gone out the window, she realized with a sigh.

Finally, Beth was grumpily playing with a ball, moving it with her feet and one arm, because it clearly hurt too much if she used the other one, and Rachel set about preparing breakfast for everyone, keeping Beth in view at all times.

Stella and Sebastian's source of smoke had a portable wood burning stove that, despite weighing slightly over thirty pounds and being rather bulky, Stella had insisted on taking with them wherever they went.

It felt quite odd to use it now, after using the fireplace in the apartment for so long.

June was neatly stacking sticks she had obviously just went outside to gather, despite the sun only just now starting to rise.

If she were anyone else, Rachel would chide her about not resting.

Instead, Rachel simply gave her a nod, and started stoking the coals, gently electing new flames to rise with the sticks.

Several times, she was certain June was about to say something to her but lost courage.

* * *

"I'm going Shawn. I need to help, I'm not useless." Violeta said patiently to her husband.

"You're helping by staying here with the kids, keeping all of you safe," Sludge said gruffly.

They had been bickering back and forth for five minutes now. Everyone was going back to the bus, except for one person to stay with the children. Sludge wanted his wife to be that person. Violeta had a different idea.

"Just let her go already," Terri finally snapped, "I want to visit my daughter's grave, and we're wasting time. It's probably good for the only doctor to stay safe anyway,"

"Well, I am a veterinarian," Stella pointed out.

"Who specializes in _felines_," Sebastian pointed, licking his lips pointedly when he caught eyes with Rachel and saw her watching him.

Rachel made a point to very visibly roll her eyes at him. He had been doing such things all morning, and Rachel had yet to find a good time to inform him that she was taken and while he was incredibly attractive, his whole persona was not something she wanted in a partner. Let alone a partner to survive the apocalypse with.

"Whatever," Terri shrugged on her emptied backpack, "Let's just go already."

Rachel felt badly for Terri. Somehow, the other woman had all three children that could drink breast milk before they started out.

Rachel did not believe she would have been that strong to feed another child so soon after her own had died.

Terri would have scars on her chest, going from the top of her breasts to her neck.

She had survived what had caused them.

Theresa, an infant, had not.

That was how the world was now.

"I'm going." Violeta said, glaring at Sludge.

He finally grunted his approval, no doubt sensing just how annoyed and upset some of them were getting.

Rachel quickly assured Beth, and Sarah both that she would return shortly -and promised Sarah she would remember the book the younger girl had forgotten to grab, and had shyly asked Rachel to get if she could.

Finally, they were on their way to the bus.

And _Quinn._

She would not quite believe that Quinn would be okay until she saw her with her own eyes.

* * *

"It hurts so bad Santana," Brittany whispered, leaning against her.

"I know Britts. I know."

They were almost back to the train, taking their last break. When Santana had gone to pee behind a tree, Brittany had followed her.

One they had taken care of their business, Brittany had wrapped her arms around Santana.

"You have to be strong. For Tiffany. For that baby waiting for us. And for me, okay? It sucks, but that's what you have to do." Santana's tone wavered.

Brittany sighed, then admitted, "I thought about letting a zombie eat me. But then I realized that would make you really sad you'd probably let a zombie eat you, and then Quinn would be sad, and so would Sam and Blaine and Rachel. And I didn't want to be the cause of so much more sadness in the world."

They stood there in silence, before Brittany added, "I don't know if I can be strong."

"You kicked the ass of one of those freaky hunter zombies by yourself. Strong is fighting. It's hard and it's painful and it's every day. It's what we have to do, and we can do it together.** You're strong, baby. And you make me strong."

"Is fighting enough Santana? I don't want to live in a world where all we do is fight, a world where's there's no joy or happiness or future." Brittany pulled away from Santana and looked at her seriously, "No amount of Buffy quotes are going to change that."

Santana ran a hand through her pony tail, fluffing out the hair while she thought. "We're going to have to fight, because that's how we're going to earn every moment of peace and happiness we get. We've got our future, Britt's -if even we're fighting, it doesn't matter as long as we're together. It's Quinn and Rachel and much Rachel's changed and Quinn seems to fit in her skin better. It's Beth, and how she looks like a tiny grumpier version of Quinn. It's Sam. It's Tina. It's Dahlia. It's Kyle. It's even Terri...it's that baby waiting for us. He's not a replacement for anyone we've lost, but..."

Speeches weren't her thing.

She honestly had no idea what to say to Brittany, how to make any of this okay, and Brittany talking about killing herself made Santana want to break things.

"I...okay Santana. You're right. We're together, and that counts for a lot. And Nicholas. Let's go back to the other's, we have a minute until Rachel's going to send out a search party."

They held hands back to the other's, and their heavy packs.

Quinn was still sleeping, like she had been since Santana and Paisley had gone back to the bus and forced fed her medicine. There had been only four zombies around the bus, which had been a surprise.

Paisley had taken out two by herself, no hand holding required.

It made Santana a hallow type of sad, wondering how good of a zombie killer Tiffany would have been if she'd been able to grow up a little more.

* * *

Sebastian, Sam, Blaine and Sludge gently set down Quinn. They'd been carrying her in a king size sheet, each holding a corner.

Well, not simply a corner.

It had to have been quite tiring for the four, with their wounds, and their heavy packs.

None of the complained.

Rachel made sure to stop for a quick break often, even if it slowed their return to the train by roughly thirty minutes.

She felt elated.

There had been only one zombie around the train in the morning, stumbling towards them as they had finally left for the bus.

Quinn was sleeping much more peacefully then she had been when they'd set out on their return trip.

Quinn was alive.

Rachel's shoulder, despite carrying a very heavy backpack, did not seem to be hurting as much as it could be.

That last part perhaps was simply adrenalin or psychosomatic.

No matter.

Things were looking up for them.

Bacon was barking.

Something seemed off by it, but before she could puzzle it out Stella turned towards them, dropping a rock she'd been holding.

"Hello," Stella said.

Rachel stared at the woman. Something seemed different.

She'd changed her shirt. Likely Nicholas spit up on it. Rachel made a mental note to, as thanks, offer to include Stella's laundry when they did their own.

Not that they would be doing it any time soon, but eventually they would.

Sebastian stepped forward, swinging his pack down, "Aunty, what's with the rock? Did that dumb cat get out again?"

Stella cocked her head to the side, seemingly analyzing every word that came out of Sebastian's mouth. "Zombies. In this train car. I'm trying to get them to one side."

Sebastian nodded, "Like what we did in Cleveland? Let me go grab my bat, I can help."

Stella barked out, "No." Then coughed, and added, "No thank you. They'll keep. Everything okay? No trouble?"

"Everything was as well as could be expected. I trust you had no issues with the children?" Rachel asked, swinging her backpack down, wincing at the pain from her wound, then again when her rifle bounced off it.

"They were...fine. Sa..Sarah was trouble. Wouldn't listen. Brat." Stella glared at the train car.

Bacon was still barking.

Something was still off about it, but Rachel couldn't put her finger on it.

"Sarah was acting like a brat? I am sorry, but I find that difficult to believe," Rachel glared at the older woman. How dare she say that Sarah was a brat.

Paisley set her pack down, and walked forward, "Do you guys here that? I think that's Bacon, but why does it sound like he's..." she trailed off, and finally stopped next to Stella, "He's in this train car? But how could he-"

Stella pulled Paisley into a hug, her face hidden by Paisley's head.

Rachel clinched her jaw.

She did not say anything simply because technically, Paisley was a stranger to them all and Rachel did not feel as though she had the right to intercede.

Santana didn't have any such qualms, "Hey Doctor Touchy Mc Touch, Parsley is a little old to just be swiping hugs from. Ask first. Paisley pull away if you want to, it's okay, or blink twice if you want help."

Paisley opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Just a drop of blood.

The drop quickly changed to a flow.

The light died in Paisley's eyes in an eight of a second.

Rachel grabbed her rifle, and raised it.

Stella dropped the green haired girl's body, and turned to them.

Blood covered her mouth, and spilled down the front of her shirt.

She grinned at them, and walked to the train car housing their young, and opened the door.

They could only watch in horror as first Kyle, then a crawling Dahlia stumbled down the stairs and towards them.

Kyle had a bite mark on his torn wrist. He was covered in spattered blood, his swollen body was lumped and misshapen.

In one swollen mitt of a hand, Rachel could just barely make out his inhaler, still grasped by him even in death.

Behind Rachel, Santana made a choked sobbing noise.

Dahlia -looking at her hurt Rachel in so many ways. The poor toddler -not quite a year old yet, was not swollen looking like most zombies they had seen.

Half her face -mostly around one of her previously delightful chubby cheeks, was missing.

Another item for her nightmares.

She raised her rifle, but Blaine ran forward, and shot his sister in the head with a pistol. He dropped the gun, and dropped to his knees, staring at the body.

Kyle's walking corpse was drawn to him.

It started stumbling towards him.

None of them could move.

Until, finally, Terri did. "Tell Kendra I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," she said, then jabbed him through the eye with her hunting knife.

The body fell, and that's when Rachel noticed Paisley's body was sitting up.

As the newest corpse started trying to stand, Rachel fired.

She hit it in the head, and the corpse fell again, still at last.

"Where's Stella?" Tina asked.

"She went back into the train car," Sebastian said numbly, "I don't know what's going on. She couldn't have been bit -we're the same blood type. She's immune. Army confirmed it."

"She's dead," Rachel said quietly, "Even if she hasn't been bit."

Holding the rifle ahead of her, Rachel stomped to the train car, and up the stairs.

Stella wasn't even attempting to hide.

She squatted over a box, eating something.

It was the box that was being used as Nicholas's makeshift crib.

Seeing Rachel, the woman dropped what she'd been gnawing on.

A tiny arm.

Rachel swallowed back bile.

She raised the gun, and fired into Stella's head.

Stella's fell backwards, still. Rachel walked forward, and kicked her in the leg.

Once she was sure Stella was dead, she dared look into the box.

Nicholas, missing his legs and one arm, snarled gummily at her.

It was _not _frightening.

It _was _horrible and grotesque.

As much as sometimes she did not like Santana, she would not force her to see this.

Rachel pulled out her knife, and slide it carefully through the infant's soft spot.

Nicholas stopped snarling, and went still.

That was for Santana.

For Brittany, Rachel wrapped the little body up in the nearest clean thing she could find, leaving only a portion of his face showing.

She smashed the bloody box, and shoved it under a seat along with the dropped arm, setting the body on top of another seat.

Beth.

She did not want to look at the nest of blankets she had left Beth in.

She could see it wiggling and moving from here.

She should go get Santana or Sam or Tina or Sludge or even June.

Anyone else.

So she would not have to see this.

She swallowed hard.

She loved Quinn so very much.

So she would be the one to give Quinn's baby her peace.

She stepped forward, holding the knife loosely in front of her.

With her toe, she kicked the blood-soaked blanket up bracing herself for what she was about to see.

Churchill stared at her, in pain, blood dribbling out of her mouth, wheezing with each painful breath.

Rachel made a little 'oh' noise.

"You poor thing. You tried to protect them from whatever happened here, didn't you?" Rachel bent down on one knee, and rubbed the German Sheppard's nose and ears. Churchill closed her eyes and Rachel jabbed the knife into her quickly.

The dog breathed her last breath, and her body stilled.

Tears were dripping down her face as she stood up, Rachel walked down the small hall.

"Beth?"

Maybe she was hiding.

She stepped on something, and realized it was a bloodstained body of a cat.

She poked at it with her toe, wishing she had brought a light in with her.

It was quite dark, and she didn't realize just how dark and gloomy it was in the train car before now.

The cat could keep.

She needed to find Beth.

"Beth?" She said, her voice breaking a bit. "Beth? I bet you're hungry and tired and want your Mama. Mama's outside, waiting for you."

She nearly slipped in something, dropping her knife and letting her rifle tightly bounce against her side when she grabbed the train seats to stay upright.

She picked up the knife, and held it close to her face so she could see.

Blood.

"Beth? I know you are scared, but it is going to be alright. I'm going to sing your special song, to make you not scared."

Quinn had started singing Beth the very same AC/DC song Puck had sung to her and the rest of them when Quinn was pregnant. She sung it most nights to help Beth sleep, or bits of it if Beth was scared or being extra grumpy. It was a way for Quinn to give Beth a chance to connect to Puck's memory.

Something she'd picked up out of one of the books Rachel had insisted the group all read.

Rachel had quite forgotten about the song last night.

"I am sorry I did not sing it to you last night," Rachel stepped forward, slowing down with each step.

She was only six seats away from the last seat.

She did not want to see what was there.

_"Beth I hear you calling  
But I can't come home right now  
Me and the boys are playing  
And we just can't find the sound_

_Just a few more hours  
And I'll be right home to you  
I think I hear them calling  
Oh Beth what can I do  
Beth what can I do"_

Tears were falling steadily with each step.

The knife was slick in her hand, the blood sticky.

She was walking through puddle path of blood, with only one destination.

_"You say you feel so empty  
That our house just ain't our home  
I'm always somewhere else  
And you're always there alone_

_Just a few more hours  
And I'll be right home to you  
I think I hear them calling  
Oh Beth what can I do  
Beth what can I do"_

She repeated the last lyric, letting the last note die slowly.

The other's would be in the train any moment, she was quite sure.

She needed to find Beth.

She pushed herself forward, practically running the last two seats.

She slide through the blood, stopping at the final seat. She forced herself to look.

Beth was sitting on the seat, curled up.

Her little body was pale.

She was breathing.

She stared up at Rachel, raising one arm -the arm that wasn't burnt, and grasped at Rachel. "Up," the toddler slurred out tiredly.

There was a bite mark on Beth's wrist.

She was _immune._

Just like Quinn.

Immune.

"Oh Bethy, you will be okay sweetie I've got you now, and Mama's just outside," Rachel shoved the knife in its holder, and slung her rifle on her back.

She picked up Beth gently, and walked carefully back towards the front, tossing someone's clean sweatshirt over Beth's face so she wouldn't see anything.

"Tina, Beth needs you. June, help her." Rachel barked out, "Sam, Sebastian, get Bacon out of that car. Last think we need is more zombies drawn to the barking."

Rachel turned to Santana and Brittany.

She opened her mouth, then finally just shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Brittany sat down, heedless of the mud, and started crying.

Santana looked down, then at Brittany.

She swallowed, blinking rapidly, then looked back at Rachel, "How's Beth?"

"Immune. And in quite a bit of pain, I imagine," Rachel said, looking at the train car Stella had been standing by when they'd arrived. Sludge had the door open, and the quivering poodle in his arms.

Sarah burst out of the doors, past Sam and Sludge, to where Santana and Rachel stood.

She was sobbing.

"She..." Sarah sobbed out, "She got bit but said she was immune and it was okay," Sarah kept trying to breath but would start crying instead, "And she was for a little while. But then she wasn't anymore. I had gone to the other train car with Bacon to reread the book I had with me. She was different. She was smarter. She even changed her shirt when she realized I could see the blood on it." Sarah sobbed out in a garbled breath, and Santana wrapped her arms around her. Sarah's words were confused and half sobs. Rachel hoped she could get the full story from her later, when things were calmer.

Tina and June returned with the medical supplies. "Lord Tubbington's hiding under the wood stove," June said quietly to Santana as Rachel handed Beth to her, "I think he's okay."

Rachel wrapped her arms around Sarah and Santana both.

"It's okay Sarah. This is not your fault," Rachel said, reassuring the girl over and over. Santana did the same.

Tina and June hovered over Beth, Tina finished bandaging up toddlers wrist and was now, presumably, searching for child friendly antibiotics.

Beth stilled.

Tina sat back, and stared at her, then yelled something.

Time seemed to slow.

No.

_No._

She's immune. That means this is not going to kill her, like it had not killed Quinn.

She realized she was saying that over and over out loud.

"Blood loss, I think. She just...she just lost too much blood Rachel. That, coupled with the burns, it was just too much for her little body to take," was all Tina could offer her.

The words, and their logic, barely register to Rachel as she looked at Quinn's sleeping form.

What was she going to tell Quinn.

* * *

**A/N: **Beth by AC/DC not owned by me yada yada.

RIP Beth, Nicholas, Kyle, Dahlia, Dr. Stella Smyth, Churchill the German Sheppard.

*This is Santana purposely bastardizing an Anya quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, episode 'The Body."

**Santana's quoting Buffy the Vampire Slayer again, episode 'Amends'.

Everyone's pretty traumatized, and in shock, if you were wondering why no one seems to be thinking much during their POV's.

At a certain age, if you've got the blood type to be immune, if you are bitten you turn into the most difficult and terrifying zombie. The zombie that still looks and somewhat acts alive.

**Hard mode is hard. **

Review and let me know what you think. I'm going to try to get the next chapter up soon. Two left! (Unless I get away from my outline).

This chapter was supposed to be start of a much longer chapter, but I felt it worked better separated.


	37. Prayer of St Francis

Santana glared at Sebastian. "You're in my spot. Move."

He cracked open one eye, and stared at her as he lazily laid in the sun she'd just been enjoying previously.

Santana needed to talk to Brittany.

She was a coward though, and instead had been working on her quilt.

Sebastian flicked and pointed a finger languidly at the pile of quilting supplies she'd left when she needed to take a quick pee break. "That yours?"

"Yeah. Move."

He scooted over a few inches, taking the opportunity to stretch out, posing for her benefit.

"You realize I'm a lesbian right? Save the attempts at being sexy for Rachel."

"That didn't stop you from having sex with guys, did it?" He replied smoothly.

"Who told you that?" she snapped at him. "And that was different. I was in the closet, and -"

He held up a hand, "I get it Santana. There's a reason teen pregnancy rates are -or _were,_ I guess, really high for LGBT youth. But maybe, " he slid closer to her, "You're a little flexible. I am. If Brittany wanted a threesome, I bet you'd be into it. "

She rolled her eyes, "If I was going to sleep with a guy for whatever reason, it would _not _be you ferret face. I'm firmly not interested, so cut the crap. Rachel seems like she'd go for it, try her and Quinn after Quinn's better."

He laughed, "It's the apocalypse Tiger. There's probably a million people left in the world. If that. Comes time you and Brittany want to do your share to repopulate the world, come find me instead of Sugar Lips, okay?"

She flinched at the mention of repopulating the world.

Nicholas. Thinking about him brought a weird sort of hurt inside her that she was pretty sure she was too young to understand.

She then turned to stare at Sebastian stonily, she snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Listen up Ferret Face, _Aunty_ Snixx is going to impart wisdom. First of all, I wouldn't pass your genes onto the next generation. That'd be cruel. Secondly, I don't care whatever daddy issues you have, you keep being creepy and flirty with everyone. It needs to stop. Yesterday.

I swear I saw you letting Bacon hump your leg, Rachel waiting in line for her turn after. You looked like you were into it too. Are you that desperate for affection? Considering your _Dear Aunty _ate the kids, you're lucky we haven't kicked you to the curb. So shut up, do what your told, and try to stay out of the way before I get Rachel to subject you to a sexual harassment lecture using her rifle. "

Not giving him a chance to reply, she grabbed her quilting things and stomped off.

She'd been hiding long enough, she knew as she swallowed back the useless tears that wanted to escape, and it was time to go talk to Brittany.

She just had to put her quilting things away first.

* * *

The sun was out again. It sent heat radiating up from on top of the train car where Brittany was sitting. The heat felt like it was going through her core. She unzipped her coat as she gazed around their area. She frowned, then zipped it back up halfway.

It was her turn on watch.

160 feet away from the train, the road sat heavy with all sorts of vehicles.

She leaned back on her hands, staring all around trying to see everywhere at once.

She hurt. A lot.

Tiffany had been so _young,_ and Brittany had only had mere days with her before she was gone.

Beth was dead.

Quinn still didn't know; it had been 77 hours and Quinn was still mostly sleeping. She was just awake enough to pee, and drink water or have medicine forced into her without any awareness.

Nicholas….he had been her's and Santana's baby.

But maybe not.

She felt a sharp dart of pain when she thought about him, but it was nothing compared to the pain of losing her sister. His loss was the lost of something intangible.

Hope.

If he was really theirs, then shouldn't they have been able to keep him alive?

Maybe they weren't _supposed_ to be parents.

Maybe there wasn't a point.

Maybe like the dinosaurs, people were meant to go extinct and they were too_ stupid_ to realize it.

Tina was checking everyone's injuries, and once she was done doing that she'd join Brittany on the roof.

They finish out Brittany's turn on watch, then Tina's turn.

"Brittany?" Santana's voice was low.

She'd been crying. Brittany could always tell.

Brittany leaned over the side of the train, and looked down at Santana.

She looked so small.

Brittany patted the metal roof next to her, and Santana smiled, but quickly reverted her features back to neutral; as if she remembered the smiling wasn't allowed.

That's silly, you can still smile.

If you had a reason.

Brittany didn't.

And she was pretty sure she wouldn't have a reason ever again.

In 2 minutes, 29 seconds Santana was sitting next to her, touching Brittany with every bit of her body she could.

They sat in silence for two minutes, before Santana said softly, "I'm sorry about Tiffany. I'm going to miss her."

"I know. Me too."

There was nothing else to say. Santana had said the exact same thing to Brittany 14 times now.

Another two minutes went by.

"I'm going to ask Sam to get me pregnant," Santana said even softer, "So we can have a baby again. We'll do better this time, and it'll be easier because I'll be able to nurse and-"

Brittany shook her head, and cut her off, "No, no. _No._ You don't really like boys, Sam's really sad, and another baby isn't going to solve or fix anything Santana."

"A baby would give you some hope again," Santana whispered, "I just want to see the light come back into your eyes."

Brittany wrapped an arm around Santana's waist, and pulled her close, "The world doesn't need another baby that's just going to die Santana. And…it means a lot that'd you'd offer to make a baby with Sam for me, even if it's a really dumb idea. I love you. _You're_ my hope." She swallowed harshly, and leaned her forehead against Santana's. "Try your best too stay alive for me. And I'll do the same. That's…that's all we can do."

She hoped Santana didn't hear how hollow the words felt to Brittany.

* * *

"Three years Brittany." Santana licked her lips, "Promise me -in three years, we have a baby. We'll flip a coin to see who gets knocked up, and loot every kitchen supply store we can until we find a hundred turkey basters."

Offering to have sex with Sam to get a baby wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. She blamed Sebastian for putting it in her head.

But Brittany was actually talking now, so maybe it wasn't the worst.

Santana would have gone through with it, if Brittany had wanted her too. She would have. Even if it meant having sex with Sam if they couldn't find a turkey baster or whatever. She'd had sex with guys before, and as long as she told herself it was for Brittany she could get through anything. Even if being pregnant was going to mess up her body in a hundred different ways, not to mention the added danger.

_Anything_ for Brittany -anything to put the life that had drained from Brittany back into her, even if it meant putting life in Santana's womb.

"San…" Brittany whispered her name, and instead of answering, kissed her.

Three years had never felt like such a long time away.

Santana finally pulled back from the kiss, and was about to demand Brittany answer her, when they heard it.

A helicopter.

Before either girl could say a word, a low flying helicopter came into view.

It must have saw them as well, because….because it _landed_ maybe half a mile away.

Santana cursed in Spanish as she stood up, and headed to the roof hatch.

"Two people are leaving the helicopter," Brittany called, standing up as Santana was climbing down.

"We're gonna have to leave, like right now," Santana gasped out as soon as she was on solid ground again, inside the train.

"Do the people in the helicopter look dangerous?" Blaine asked, pausing his quiet conversation with Sebastian.

"Dunno. Didn't see them. Britt's did -there's two. But I do know the noise is going to call every zombie from all over, instead of the steady stream we've been handling," Santana spat out, already starting to gather her and Brittany's things.

They didn't need to pack up Tiffany's stuff.

That thought struck her, and sent a pang of pain through her.

She'd take Queenie. Brittany would want the stuffed unicorn.

She didn't know if there was anything they should take that belonged to Nicolas. Or even if they wanted to. Maybe one of the blankets knitted for him. She grabbed it, and wrapped it around Queenie.

"Anyone see Lord Tubbington?" She called out as she started stuffing things into bags.

"Santana," Sarah said quietly, "he's under our seat."

"Santana is correct. Start gathering your things to leave; We have to prioritize food and water as well," Rachel stood up, leaving Sarah and Bacon huddled alone on the train seat, "Quinn will have to be once more jerry rigged."

"And where _exactly_ are we going to go?" Terri asked, "Are we going to stick to our original plan or somewhere else?"

"I feel as though finding the military -whatever is left of them, is the most sound plan," Rachel sighed tiredly.

"They found us," Brittany said quietly, "They want to fly us to Chicago." She stood in the train car door, a man next to her. A few feet behind them, a woman -girl, really, kept watch.

* * *

"I'm Captain Abrams," the main said evenly once they were all clearly paying attention, "And that's my companion Kitty. On behalf of the United States of America, God bless her soul, I am here to inform you that any man, women, and children 10 years through 75 are hereby being conscripted."

"Bullshit. " Santana spat, eyes blazing with anger, "You can't just come to where we're trying to survive and say, 'hey, ur in the army now'. None of us are going to go off fighting zombies to keep some fat politicians safe in their bunkers while we die to get them cigars or shit."

"Officially, miss, there is no army or navy or any other form of military. We are technically a militia," the man said, "And what politicians are left? They're fighting as well. Of course there will be pay," he added with a tired sigh.

"Pay? Money's kinds useless," Sebastian pointed out smoothly, stepping closer to Blaine.

He shook his head, "Your pay will be medical supplies, access to a doctor, food, water, and a safe place to sleep. I'm sure by now you are aware of the ETs."

"What do you know about the aliens," Rachel asked with a frown. Santana figured one wrong word from this guy, and Rachel would go for her rifle.

Santana didn't know if she agreed with that.

On the one hand, they really couldn't trust strangers. On the other, they were pretty much out of options and super hopeless at this point.

"We know the zombie mutations caused from their technology, as well as the zombies themselves. And we know that the population of the world has been decimated, and that they've been showing up in major metropolis areas gathering metal and draining water supplies; the island of Manhattan is, from what our eyes nearby say, a no human zone that's swarming with those things. We think they set the zombies on us to several weaken any resistance. We also know that the zombies seem to have a homing towards previously well hidden survivors, and if contact is longer than roughly a minute with them, the ETs are called, arrive, and kill via what can be best described as lasers."

"And where," Rachel moved to stand next to Quinn's prone form protectively, "Do you wish to take us?"

"A town outside Chicago. We've set up base at a Wal-Mart distribution center. It'll be roughly a three hour flight. I'll give you ten minutes to gather your things," Captain Abrams replied.

"What about our supplies?" Blaine asked, "We have a fair amount of food and other things that it'd be a shame to leave behind."

"We can take it all with us."

"There's more, a few miles down the road," Sam said quietly, "In our bus and truck. And we've got chickens." Santana was ready to cook 'em all, but Sam was still holding out hope that they'd be less sickly with some sunshine and safety.

"Hmm. Well, we can take most of you now, leave a couple, come back with a cage that'll hang down from the bottom of the helicopter, load it up with supplies and the chickens. No matter how big the warehouses are, and they're huge, and there's other warehouses in the area, we could always use more."

"I'll stay." Sam said immediately.

"Me too," Blaine shot Sam a half smile, and Sam nodded at him.

Santana wanted to stay with them, but she didn't want to be apart from Brittany. Brittany squeezed her hand, and smiled at her.

When Santana still didn't offer, Brittany nodded slightly.

Frowning, Santana said, "I'll stay."

"So will I," Sebastian purred. Santana just barely resisted her urge to roll her eyes.

Rachel looked like she was torn between humping Sebastian's leg and shooting Abrams to steal his helicopter.

"How do we know you are who you say you are, and this isn't a trap?" Good for Rachel for asking first, instead of shooting. Santana was proud of the hobbit.

"You don't. All I can tell you, miss, is that there's enough of us that are trying to make a go of things, do what we can to protect ourselves, our country, our planet. Kitty's only sixteen, and she's lost everyone but my son who's waiting for me at the base, just lost his mother, damn near lost him. You've got seven minutes to decide, gather your things, and come with me. Or not."

"Is..." Sam said quietly "Is your son's name Artie?"

Abrams turned his tired eyes to Sam and stared at him, "Now how the hell did you know that?"

"We're originally from Lima," Rachel said in an excitable gasp, "Naturally I knew Artie's last name was Abrams, but I did not assume you were his father because the chances of that are _so _slim. " She sounded, for a moment, like the old Rachel. At least until she added, "I see a bit of a resemblance, but if you happen to have a photo of him on your person that will cement it, and we shall go with you."

He did, and they did.

And soon, Santana, Sam, Blaine, and Sebastian were watching the helicopter fly up and away.

As soon as it was out of sight, Santana turned to Sam and grinned, "Alright, let's follow Rachel's orders now, get it over with."

"Orders?" Blaine asked.

"Why is she in charge, anyway?" Sebastian asked, "I mean, she's not doing a bad job, but given the Warbler's files on the New Directions, she's not who I would have bet money would be leading us right now."

Ignoring Sebastian, Santana nodded, "Yeah. She's uncomfortable with how she falls into Sebastian's eyes, thinks he affects her leadership, so we have to kill him."

Blaine opened his mouth. Then slowly turned to Sebastian, sadly whispering, "I'm sorry Sebastian."

"Wha..." Sebastian stumbling away from them, the carefree smirk that was usually on his face was gone as he groped for the baseball bat he'd left on the ground.

"Santana, that's _not_ funny." Sam said, "Rachel doesn't want us to kill anyone Sebastian. It's okay Blaine."

Santana shrugged, "It was kinda funny."

"If you're a sociopath," Sebastian spat, glaring at her.

"Santana, maybe you should go somewhere else for a while," Sam sighed.

"You were ready to kill me," Sebastian turned to glare at Blaine, "because you thought Rachel wanted you too? Seriously?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Whatever." She didn't hear Blaine's reply as she walked away.

* * *

Santana threw a rock off the top of the bus -the helicopter was meeting them there instead of the train, and sighed. She'd given all her stuff to Brittany to take with her, and now she had nothing to do but watch for zombies and wonder if Sam or Blaine were mad at her.

Not that she cared if they were, she thought grimly as she tossed another rock at a tree, where it bounced harmlessly off the bark into mud. Nope. She didn't care at all.

Sighing, she shoved the small piles of rocks off the roof. She may as well go talk to them.

...maybe even apologize to Sebastian.

She was pretty sure being a bitch was just ingrained in her, even if it was the zombie alien apocalypse.

"Santana?" Sam called quietly up to her. She got onto her stomach, and pulled herself over the side of the bus to look over at him.

"Hi."

He just stared at her.

She sighed, "I'm a bitch. I'm sorry."

"You can't keep doing awful things, saying awful things, then prefacing your apologies with 'I'm a bitch'. You should apologize to Sebastian, and maybe Blaine too."

"Why Blaine?"

Sam shrugged, "Not right now, but eventually...they're probably going to be a thing. Or almost a thing."

Santana scowled, "Sebastian flirts with anyone that moves. Blaine deserves someone who...isn't him."

Sam shrugged again, "I don't think it's on Blaine's radar right now, but I've noticed Sebastian is different with him. Softer? Who knows what's going to happen there. Maybe I'm just imaging it, I dunno. Reminds me of you with Brittany though." He leaned against the side of the bus, looking up at her.

"How are you doing?" Santana said after a moment.

"Crappy. I was..I was thinking about heading towards Kentucky, see if I could find any of my family members still over there..."

Pain gripped her, "You can't leave us Sam. We need you. I need you," she whispered, digging her nails into the palms of her clinched fists to stop herself from crying.

He shook his head, "I was only thinking about it...but now...with..."

She relaxed, "Yeah, military. Or militia. Whatever."

"Not just that..." he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, "Tina's pregnant."

"What." Santana had no words, before she said in a tight whisper, "Was it...June's cult? Did they...?" Rage went through her, and June was lucky she was on the helicopter with the rest of them, because Santana would have hurt the woman right now if she saw her.

"No, no. Brittany would have told you, I'm sure. Tina was pregnant before they were kidnapped. My baby, not Mike's...that night in the school? We...well, we thought we were going to die and...yeah..." he stared off down the road, "I don't love her, well, I mean, I love her like I love the rest of you. I'm not _in_ love with her. But I just couldn't leave her to deal with this alone, and leave the rest of you either, for family that might or might now be there. I just...I dunno, needed a reason to wake up in the morning. Now I've got it, and it terrifies me."

"I..." Santana didn't even know what to say. The rage faded from her.

She kinda missed it; it was a better emotion then the ones she'd been feeling lately. It made her feel like herself. The old self.

"I'm not going to make you promise anything Santana. I know you'll do the best you can, just like we have been doing." He slid down the side of the bus, coming to rest up against a tire. He pulled his legs up, and wrapped his arms around his knees. The look on his face, the scruff, his bent nose -he looked older.

She supposed the all did.

She rested her forehead on the cold metal of the bus roof as she processed the fact that Tina was pregnant with Sam's baby.

"If she was pregnant when...do you think her time with June's cult hurt the baby?" She couldn't stop herself from asking him. Her voice was muffled slightly by the metal.

"I don't know. It's going to be...hard enough without..." Sam replied, sighing again. Santana knew a baby was heartbreaking enough, but one with...problems? That was...that was something else.

Another long silence -the ghosts of the children, of everyone, they'd already lost were present, and if felt like they were all pushing down on Santana.

"Clark for a boy, Diana for a girl," Santana finally said, lifting her head up and looking down at Sam again.

He looked up at her, a smile on his face, "I'll suggest it her. Or maybe Marvel names. She's not...she's not really talking about it, or planning, or anything but..." he trailed off.

There was a pregnant pause, before Santana gave a crazy little giggle, "God, I hope I'm there when you two tell Rachel."

That got a short barking laugh out of Sam. "I don't think her reaction is going to be that bad now. If it was still just us though..."

"I'll apologize to Sebastian," Santana sighed.

"Okay. Hey, remind me before we leave to grab Artie's glasses from the truck's glove box?"

"You've still got those?" Sam had off handedly mentioned he somehow had a spare pair of Artie's glasses at one point, but Santana hadn't thought about them in a while. Or Artie, for that matter.

"Yeah, I didn't know what to do with them so I left them in Puck's truck, safe in the glove box," he let out a short laugh, "I didn't think I'd see Artie again, but I couldn't just throw them away or leave them behind."

"I'll remind you but you gotta remind me to grab that picture from the visor Puck kept up there. Pretty sure Sarah forgot all about it, but I bet she'd like to have it." Santana carefully climbed off the roof of the bus. "I think...I think I'm going to put some flowers if I can find any, or more rocks or something on the graves," she said softly once she was standing on solid ground next to Sam.

He nodded solemnly, and stood up. Silently, they walked to the graves together.

* * *

The entire helicopter ride, Rachel sat in-between Quinn's fitfully sleeping form, and Sarah. The younger girl clutched Bacon to herself tightly, at first staring around the helicopter in wide eyed wonder, before finally tucking herself and the poodle into Rachel's side. Rachel wondered if the noise and movement added to Quinn's already restless sleep.

Stepping off the helicopter, holding Sarah's hand, had been, she imagined, feeling like the first person to step onto the moon.

There was a bustle of activity as that girl -Kitty, shouldered her way past them to hop off the helicopter first. The pilot -Rachel hadn't caught his name, and Captain Abrams helped them off. They hovered around as Captain Abrams and the pilot gently carried Quinn off and set her down on the ground next to them.

Kitty was talking to Artie. Rachel lightly tapped Tina, then Brittany, nodded to him. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and Rachel surmised that he likely couldn't see who they were.

"Artie?" Tina called out.

"Tina?"

"Yup. Me and Rachel are here too Artie!" Brittany called out.

He opened up his arms, "What are you girls waiting for, give me a hug. Rachel, you too. I never thought I'd see any of you again."

After Artie had hugged each of them tightly, and reintroduced them to his girlfriend (who looked, Rachel thought, like she smelled something bad. Which wasn't a surprise, but Kitty didn't need to be so rude about it given the situation,) he nodded at Quinn's form.

"Who's that? And is she...okay?"

"It's Quinn. And given that she is unaware that Beth is dead, and is recovering from being bitten, no." Rachel said primly.

"Well, at least she's immune...that's gotta count for something."

"Perhaps."

"Who's Beth?" Kitty asked brashly.

"Her daughter," Tina sighed.

Kitty sniffed loudly, obviously disapproving of teenage motherhood.

Rachel stared at the blonde girl, and said evenly, "I don't care what you think; she might. If you dare so much as look in her general direction meanly, or make her feel bad or guilty or anything at all, I will kill you."

"Whoa, hold up Rachel. Damn. No killing. Kitty will be nice, won't you Kitty? I don't even..." Artie held up his hands.

"Hmf. Of course I will," Kitty said curtly.

"Rachel once sent a girl to a crack house because she didn't want the singing competition in our glee club," Tina said idly with a shrug at Artie.

"And I agree with her, if you make Quinn feel bad about Beth or _anything,_ I'll sic Lord Tubbington on you. He'll poop in your shoes and on your face while you're sleeping." Brittany made a clucking noise with her tongue, and Lord Tubbington got up from where he'd been sitting next to Quinn's sleeping form. He stalked the ten or so feet to them, and sat down at Brittany's feet, staring stonily at Kitty.

"Hey Tubbington. You're alive. Wow. Um, I'm guessing you guys have had a time of it. So after you get your bunks, and clean up, maybe we should eat and talk?" Artie suggested.

"How about we let you, Sam, and Blaine hang out later, and then tomorrow we all will?" Tina suggested softly.

"Sam and Blaine are alive too?" Artie grinned. "This is way better than I ever hoped for. I'm so glad you guys are alive."

"And we're glad you're alive," Tina replied. Brittany added in her agreements.

Rachel stepped forward, already deciding that she'd left Sarah and Quinn alone too long. Terri, Sludge, and Violeta had been awkwardly standing waiting for the person Captain Abrams had said would show them around and get them set up, and Rachel could easily read how uncomfortable Terri was next to the couple. She made a mental note to try to include Terri more -the woman had no one now.

"I am, of course, glad you are alive as well Artie," she muttered, not pausing in her walk forward.

She hated the fact that was all she could think about as she walked away from them towards the others, was that should the worse happen, Artie would be more of a liability then an asset to a group.

She swallowed those feelings away, and put on a simple smile for Sarah. Even after all this, she was still an amazing actress.

* * *

She cracked her eyes open slowly, and stared at the billowy ceiling above her.

She had no idea where she was.

She was just about to sit up, and open her eyes fully when she realized she could hear voices.

Santana and Rachel.

"I'm telling you, Sebastian is slimy." Santana growled out, "And bullshit you do not have three fives."

Rustling noises, "I do as you can see. Please take the considerable pile of cards. And I am telling you, Santana, that Blaine is allowed to see whom he wishes. Kurt would want him to steal the happy moments he can."

"It isn't even about Kurt -it's about Dahlia. Blaine's traumatized from her death. Hell, we are all; that's why jumping feet first into something like this is a bad idea." Santana grumbled under her breath in Spanish, then said "One six."

"Two sevens. And forgive me, but were or were you not the one whom offered to allow Sam to impregnate you if Brittany so wished?"

"How the hell did you -Tina, right? Ugh. Three eights."

"Three nines. And yes, Brittany told Tina whom told me."

"Two tens. That was extenuating circumstances okay? Like you wouldn't offer the same thing to Quinn."

"Well, no. I would not. As much as I love Quinn, it is…" Rachel sighed, and trailed off, "I do not believe it would help her, or any of us if -"

"Dahlia died? How? I killed the zombies…but then I..." Quinn croaked out. Her throat and mouth felt dryer then the desert, "…where are we?"

"Oh Quinn. You are awake," Rachel slid back in her chair.

"Wal-Mart Distribution Center with the military outside Chicago. They commandeered it." Santana said, putting a metal cup of water up to Quinn's mouth.

Quinn drank greedily.

"Well, given that only 30% of anyone here is actually military, I believe it is technically more of a militia." Rachel sighed, staring at Quinn intently.

"I'm gonna go tell the others Quinn's awake," Santana said once the glass was empty. Before Quinn could say a word, Santana was gone, leaving Rachel glaring at Santana's retreating form.

"Quinn…you killed them all, yes. There were…there is no easy way to say it, but there was a UFO that attacked us as well while you were killing the zombies. It distracted you, and you were bitten," Rachel gently put her hand on Quinn's bandaged arm, "Thankfully, you are of the blood type that is immune. For the most part." Rachel sighed again, "We lost Theresa, Abby, Tiffany, Stevie, Faith and Marigold to the UFO. We all sustained various injuries from it as well…."

It took Quinn a moment to process Rachel's words, "What happened to Dahlia?"

Quinn listened intently as Rachel explained what happened after Quinn had been bitten -by the time Rachel finished with, "Quinn I am so very sorry. If she had not had her burn injuries, Beth would still be alive as she was immune as well. But all of it, together, was just too much for her little body to take. I am so _so_ sorry," and she wiped away tears, and wrapping her arms around herself.

Quinn felt empty.

"Do you wish to be alone?"

Quinn looked Rachel in the eyes. She remembered how it was in the town when she thought Beth was dead.

She had wanted to die -had even tried to get Rachel to shoot her.

"Do you think if I hadn't killed Shelby, Beth would be alive right now?" Quinn whispered.

Instead of answering an immediate, "Don't be silly Quinn," Rachel cocked her head to the side, and thought for a moment. "I believe it would be unlikely Beth's chance of survival would have been higher with Shelby over us, Quinn."

"She wasn't even two years old yet. I…I gave her away because I thought she'd grow up and have an amazing life if she wasn't stuck with a teenage mother. I thought we'd both grow up and be happy if we weren't together; we'd both have a chance. And…it was for _no_ reason. It would have been so much easier if I had kept her, because it's not like I would have ended up trying to juggle college and a baby," Quinn said in a rush, her voice heavy. She closed her eyes, tears streaming from her face, "I would have been able to protect her better, have kept her alive, if I hadn't given her away. I would have been a better mother."

"Quinn…" Rachel gently brushed away Quinn's tears, "You don't know that. If we are going to play the 'what if game' one could just as easily say that you would have picked up Beth from daycare that first day and both of you would have been devoured by undead toddlers."

Despite herself, Quinn let out a half laugh, half sob, and opened her eyes, "Stay with me?"

"Of course."

Rachel started to pull one of the chairs towards the bed, but Quinn shook her head, and with her uninjured arm, patted next to her.

Rachel crawled in the bed, and under the covers with her, curling up protectively around Quinn.

Then, Quinn finally allowed herself to stop holding back her sobs.

After a moment, Quinn was dimly aware that Rachel joined her in crying.

* * *

Santana swiftly exited the small tent that served as a patient room. It, and half a dozen others were clustered around the giant army tent that served as the medical area.

She went inside to tell the doctor Quinn was awake and talking and stuff.

"I'm telling you, none of you can keep pushing yourself this hard," Dr. Allen muttered to a uniformed man Santana didn't know as Santana walked up to them.

"Quinn's awake."

"That's lovely dear, I'll go check on her after I'm done with this numbskull," Dr Allen muttered.

"There's a fucking ten year old that's training to fight these things Doc, how can we _not_ push ourselves? I'll be fine." The guy said, his voice a little choked up.

Santana grimaced.

That ten year old was Sarah.

"Do you know what the long term effects of sleep deprivation is?" The doctors voice became quieter the further Santana walked away.

She needed to go find the others, give Quinn and Rachel some time to talk.

Rachel was going to puff her feathers and bitch at Santana for not sticking around and leaving Rachel to tell Quinn by herself, but whatever. Santana would be there for Quinn, and help her cope as best Santana can, but right now she needed to go tell the others and give them time.

The warehouse's that made up their new home were over half a mile long each. There were two, and in between them the gravel truck loading areas and the bits of grass had been turned into plant beds using lumber, dirt, seeds and plants all mostly found in the warehouse or some of the other warehouses surrounding them.

Santana was of the opinion they should have gone here, or at least one in Ohio, instead of the cabin in the first place.

The rest of the giant property had been fenced in (also with materials found in the warehouses) then a larger fence outside that made up of cars and semi's.

It was pretty damn safe.

They got their water from a well powered by a propane generator. It was heavily rationed, just like the food.

Santana figured everyone could live here for a while just by what was stockpiled.

Really, the only downside is that, due to the freaking aliens, every person over the age of ten was given a gun, trained, and sent out to kill zombies or E.T.

Which included Sarah despite Santana and Rachel's protests that she wasn't ten for another few weeks.

They'd only been here a week, so they hadn't gone out yet. They were still being trained.

Apparently the group had been hit with heavy casualties the last couple of months.

That might not have required them arming and training kids, but the fact that they'd lost contact with almost all but four other group of survivors meant shit had really hit the fan.

The military people were just leftovers from military bases and groups from nearby areas who had survived long enough to get to or been taken here; the leader of the group was a retired Marine, Vince Reynolds, who had apparently fled an army base himself he'd gone to be with his daughter who was stationed there and keep an eye on his granddaughter.

She was here too, but Santana hadn't met her yet.

Had met her seventeen year old though; didn't like her much. Keira was just too damn peppy and happy; you could tell she hadn't lost more than a few friends, and hadn't seen the horrors most of them did. And she totally had a crush on Sam. And Sebastian. And, hell, Rachel of all people. Santana felt a decade older than the other girl instead of barely a year.

* * *

They were sharing a giant army tent, just them. They even had mattresses from some far corner of a warehouse, so it wasn't that bad even if it was a little cold most of the time.

But it wasn't like sweaters weren't readily available so whatever. If winter actually hit with snow and everything, they'd figure something out. But spring should be coming soon, real spring not this pretender crap, hopefully.

"I miss cheese the most," Blaine was sighing as she came up to where he was talking to Keira.

"I miss milk," Keira said, smiling at him.

It really made Santana want to barf.

Terri, who was sharpening a knife at a fold up table a few feet away from the pair, looked like she wanted to jam it into Keira's eye.

"Well, duh. We can just milk Terri. I bet we can make cheese too," Santana drawled as she walked towards them.

Keira made a disgusted face, as Terri paused in her knife sharpening. Primly, not looking at Santana, she replied, "My milk has dried up."

Oh. Of course it has, considering Terri's baby was dead, so was any other child young enough to breastfeed, and Sarah was the youngest kid here.

Santana should have freaking realized that.

She had just wanted to gross out Keira.

"I'm sorry Terri."

Terri resumed sharpening her knife, pausing for a second to look up at Santana, "I imagine breast milk cheese would taste rather sweet, and the calorie output into making it wouldn't be worth it anyway," then she resumed sharpening, a ghost of a bitter smile at the corners of her mouth.

As a rule Santana never regretted what she said to anyone -she didn't have time for that. And she wasn't exactly close to Terri or anything. But she understood Terri, even as she knew that Santana's experience was no where what Terri was going through; Santana &amp; Brittany had barely had time to hold their baby, while Terri had carried her's for nine months, then kept her alive for almost half that time.

She took a deep breath, and turned back to Blaine, "Quinn's awake. Help me spread the word."

He nodded, "Sam, Tina, and Brittany are walking the fence if you want to go tell them. I'll talk to Sebastian and the others?"

"I'll go with you," Keira chirped out, beaming at him as he nodded.

"Yeah. Try not to get sucked into Ferret face's mouth before you tell everyone," Santana said rolling her eyes.

"Keira can you go on ahead? I need to talk to Santana," Blaine said quietly.

Keira looked between them, nervously rubbing a piece of her short cropped black hair between her fingers, then nodded and took off.

"You don't like me and Sebastian…having sex." He said point blank once Keira was out of ear shot, blushing.

"He's taking advantage of your trauma," Santana mumbled, "And he flirts with anything that looks at him, guy girl or zombie."

Blaine shook his head, "You just don't understand him Santana. Which is funny, because you two are really a lot alike. Where you cover your feelings with snark, he does with snark and flirting. I think you two could be friends if you ease up a bit and give him a chance..."

She sighed, "I just…I..Kurt's death…I can still see it every time I close my eyes."

"I loved Kurt you know. I did. And I miss him so so much….he and Sebastian are basically nothing alike, and that helps a lot. It's not like Sebastian's my only choice here, which helps...and we're not getting married or are even serious or anything. Sebastian was pretty clear that he doesn't _do_ serious." There was three other gay guys and two other lesbians at the warehouse. Rachel had babbled on about statistics when they found that out.

"Kurt wouldn't have wanted you to be alone. Granted, I'm sure he'd rather you date a zombie then Sebastian Smythe," but….I mean, this isn't a 'only other living gay within 1000 miles' situation, soo…." Santana grudgingly admitted making Blaine laugh weakly, and she continued, "But as long as you're…not happy, but at least okay? Then we're okay."

"We're not dating. I'm not ready for that. We've had sex once Santana, and who knows if we will again. But thank you, it means a lot that you are all accepting of Sebastian…you are my family."

"You're going to hug me, aren't you?" Santana sighed again.

"Yes."

And he did.

She hugged him back, pulling away when Lin approached them. Lin hadn't been hanging around with their group much; there was a Chinese family at the warehouse (an army private, her parents, and a cousin) so understandably Lin spent a lot of time with them. Santana didn't blame her, it was nice to be with people who looked like you. Not that Santana had made much effort to spend time with Violeta with everything that had been going on, and with waiting for Quinn to wake up. But if they had a stress free (relatively) time Santana would have made it her mission to be friends with Violeta. She liked Shawn, stands to reason she'd like his wife if she had the time to get to know the other woman.

Lin chattered excitedly to Blaine, and he answered her back with a smile. Lin then turned and said carefully, "Hel low San".

Santana smiled encouragingly, and nodded, "Hello Lin."

Lin grinned at her, then turned back to Blaine and chattered to him. Once she was done, and Blaine answered her, he turned apologetically to Santana, "Mrs. Zhou wants me to swing by their tent really quickly. It's on the way? But I can wait and do it later?"

"Nah, go. Rachel and Quinn are talking right now anyway, reunion can wait a few minutes," Santana drawled, "I'm going to go talk to Sarah first anyway."

Blaine nodded, "She's in the tent reading."

"K. Thanks. See you in fifteen, don't forget to get Artie," she leaned over and gave him another hug, then Lin too because the woman looked like she was going to hug Santana anyway. "You too Terri," she added, and Terri nodded at her.

* * *

"Hey Sarah," Santana ruffled Sarah's hair.

She'd stopped calling the kid by any nickname, except occasionally "Sarita," when she was trying to teach her Spanish.

Nicknames felt too frivolous now. Well, she wasn't going to stop calling Sebastian 'ferret face' because not only did it annoy him, but also Blaine _and_ Rachel.

"Quinn's awake."

Sarah set down her book and stared at Santana wide eyed, "Really?" she squeaked out quietly, a frown marring her face, "Do you think…" she whispered, "Quinn's going to hate me?"

Santana sat down next to her, "Why would Quinn hate you? She loves you. We all do."

"Because…I'm alive and Beth isn't."

"Do you think Brittany hates you?" Santana asked.

Sarah shook her head so fast Santana was surprised the younger girl didn't get whip lash, "No. I don't think Brittany could hate anyone. But Quinn's…she's not _like_ Brittany," Sarah obviously didn't know how to put into words the differences between Quinn and Brittany. Santana understood her, and was pretty sure she couldn't put the difference into words either…or at least not in child friendly words.

Santana knew damn well that Brittany can and did hate, could hold a grudge, that she wasn't -especially now, the dim beam of sunshine without a mean bone in her body that most thought she was... but she wasn't going to tell Sarah that. Let her have her innocence and belief in others for as long as she could.

"Do you think she'll be mad I wasn't there to save Beth?" Sarah asked after a moment's silence.

"No." Santana frowned, and bonked Sarah's forehead with her own gently, then pulled back and looked at Sarah, face grave with seriousness, "I think Quinn will be glad you're alive, and really sad about the others. She's going to be super sad about Beth, but there's no way she's going to blame you or be angry you're alive."

"Is it okay if I wait a while to see her? Just in case?"

"If that's what you want, she'll understand."

"Okay."

Knowing Quinn, she'd only blame herself.

* * *

"Ten pushups," Linwood barked, "Only two for you sweetheart," he added to Sarah.

Rachel was utterly incensed they insisted that Sarah participate in their militia. She slowly and carefully did her pushups, a frown on her face.

Thus far, attempting to speak to the man in charge, Vince Remolds, had yet to prove fruitful.

Rachel had every confidence that, once she managed to get his attention, she would be able to convince him that Sarah was far too young to hold a gun and deal with zombies…let alone aliens.

Yesterday Rachel had gotten a lucky shot during a routine shooting training, and brought down one of the spheres should turn things into her favor.

It had landed on a car with a defining crash, and thus they hadn't been able to do more than stare incredulously at it before being forced to flee the area because the noise from the crash would attract even more zombies then they had been previously dealing with. Naturally, it had been miles away from the base, since of course they wouldn't fire off so many weapons near it.

She finished her pushups, and sat primly and a bit smugly as she watched Santana, arms wobbly, struggle to finish hers.

"Linwood," she said once the man finished telling Sarah what a great job she'd done, "Do you know what the team found out about the sphere I shot down?"

"No team has been sent out," he said simply.

"Seriously? _Why?_" Terri spat out. She stopped mid push up to look up and frown at Linwood, gritting her teeth.

"Don't we need to understand the aliens so we can defeat them?" Sam said quietly from where he was sitting against the wall, waiting for everyone to finish. He'd been the first, Sebastian a few pushups behind him.

"Finish up," he barked, then added when Rachel glared at him, "Vince decided that it wasn't worth the risk; we don't know if they track the UFOs, or if they're rigged to explode. We're low on numbers already, we just can't risk it," he gestured to Sarah to make his point, "Up, now we run, then it's melee."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, and glared at Linwood. The risk, if there was actually a risk, of studying one of the UFO's was far outweighed by what they could possibly find out.

She would just have to do it by herself as best she could by herself, perhaps finding a book first would be helpful. She was by no means an expert in science or any such thing.

It would keep her mind off the fact that Quinn was still in the medical ward, despite, according to the doctor, being well enough to leave in body.

It was her spirit that needed healing.

Not even seeing Artie had raised her spirits enough to get out of bed. Rachel feared that the administration would soon force the issue; they seemed to be sympathetic right now, but if Quinn wasn't actively participating soon who knows what they would do. They didn't even need her to test her immune blood -for one, they didn't have the scientific lab area needed, and for another, there were half a dozen other immune here already.

* * *

"We will return by dark," Rachel said for perhaps the fifth time to the people gathered around them.

Sludge shared a look with his wife, and said, also for the fifth time, "I still think I should go with you."

"If you had any skills as a scientist, then of course. But you do not, so you must remain here," Rachel said patiently.

"I have skills fighting, shooting, and as good as you are with that rifle, you don't know what you two are gonna find near that thing." Sludge clinched his jaw, and stared stonily at Rachel using, she assumed, his full force policeman stare.

She almost withered under it, almost gave in, but she caught eyes with Santana. Santana _smirked _at her. Clearly, the Latina girl expected Rachel to give in.

Rachel took a deep breath, set her shoulder's back, and gave Sludge her own withering glare. "No. That's final."

Sarah sniffled a bit, clearly trying not to cry, "Rachel maybe you could take someone else? Remember, there's supposed to be three people when we -you, go out on runs? That's been the rule for a while hasn't it?"

"Sarah's right. _Three_ people," Santana drawled, "Just in case. Remember?"

Rachel let out a frustrated breath. She had initially only planned on herself and Terri, simply because it would be quicker and easier for two people to slip in and out, and they shared the same duty rotations.

"So I'm gonna go," Sludge bit out.

"No. I selected Terri because we have the same duty rotation today. You do not. The only other person is..." Rachel sighed, "June. So perhaps we should take Bacon instead, he, at least, is useful. Or Lord Tubbington."

"I can carry things, and I'm learning to fight," June said softly, looking down at the ground, thick blue hair falling forward to hide her face.

Despite sharing a tent with her, Rachel had not seen much of June lately. Frankly, she had hoped that would continue...she hadn't even intended for June to be present at this meeting, but someone must have told her, or perhaps she'd simply woken up and joined it.

"_Artie_ would be more useful," Rachel snapped at her, then took a deep breath and looked around at the group gathered in their tent, taking a sip of her coffee. It was early morning -the sun wasn't quite up yet, and clearly Rachel needed to get control of her emotions. "Terri and I shall be fine. We are simply going to go, establish if the remains are explosive or not, gather samples, and return. Hopefully that will be enough for an actual team to be sent, and perhaps even samples sent to Iceland."

Iceland was the home of one of the safe zones. They had scientists. And no zombies.

They were working in conjunction with the other groups of survivors to figure out how to evacuate to Iceland in time for the best weather there -even if, just like here, weather was off a bit, they insisted late May or early June would be best.

The risks of attempting such a flight...Rachel did not dare allow herself to hope they would all be safe in Iceland. Nor did she give into the bitterness that threatened to engulf her...she did not allow herself to think about how things would have changed if they had Iceland as a goal months and months ago.

It would be a nineteen hour flight. There was one helicopter, and due to the length of the trip they didn't dare cram it full of people. It would take many many trips to evacuate just everyone from the warehouse, and there was a good chance it would take up the entire four or so weeks the Icelanders said would be the best time just taking their people over, let alone any of the other survivor groups they were in contact with. They would need a lot of fuel. Or perhaps an airplane, but airports were jam packed with zombies. Maybe a ship.

There were so many logistics to consider that Rachel was glad she was not in charge of figuring it all out.

"Take June. She's not going to learn if we don't give her a chance," Santana cocked her head, and smirked at Rachel.

Rachel grit her teeth. "Very well," she bit out.

Santana grinned at her.

* * *

They walked in silence for most of the trip to the crash site. It was on their first, quick break, that June finally spoke to Terri, obviously realizing that Rachel wanted nothing to do with her.

"Do you ever wonder how things would have changed if your husband was with you? I do." June tentatively asked. Rachel snorted quietly to herself, obviously June was reaching for anything they had in common.

Terri took a swing of coffee from her thermos, then said, "We divorced, so no."

"Divorced...oh." June had nothing to say to that. Because of course, she was simply to enriched in her cult to have gotten a divorce.

"But if Will _were_ here...I would like to think that he would have stepped up and been the person we needed when we needed him. But...and I loved him so much at one point, but he...sometimes he let you down," Terri continued carefully after a moment. She sighed, "I certainly was not a good person most of our marriage, but even then..." she trailed off. Finally, she shrugged, "What do you think Rachel?"

Rachel licked her lips, and triple checked their area to ensure they were alone, for now, replied "I think Mr. Schue_ meant _well."

She recalled for a second, with vivid clarity, a moment in the early days of the glee club before Quinn and the others had joined.

Mr. Schue had watched Puck and Santana slushy her, simply frowned at them. Rachel had, struggling not to give the pair the satisfaction of crying, tried to kick at Puck. She had thought that the other New Directions -that Finn, would have had her back in case of retaliation so she had dared to try to fight back for once.

She'd missed Puck, instead slipping on slushy. They, and everyone else in the hall, had laughed at her.

Mr. Schue hadn't even helped her up.

Neither had Finn, who had just watched it all happen with a dough eyed helplessness.

Mr. Schue had allowed it to happen, he could have stepped in and stopped it all. So could the people that she thought would finally be her friends, but Tina had scurried away with Artie, Kurt had pointedly not looked at her, and Mercedes had a looked gleeful, like Rachel was getting what she deserved. Just because Rachel, who planned everything she was allowed to plan, got to sing more solos. It _was _selfish of Rachel, yes, but without her there wouldn't have been an actual glee club, Rachel had thought she needed it to get on Broadway, so she could forgive her younger self for thinking solos were her reward for the hard work she put into the Glee club -no one else worked as hard as she did.

Mr. Schue simply hadn't liked Rachel enough to help her. It seemed as if he had only really liked Finn, and treated them all accordingly to how Finn did.

To his credit, Mr. Schue _had _actually stopped Rachel being slushied outright a few times.

Only when she had been dating Finn, though.

Kurt, likewise, had gotten better treatment from Mr. Schue when he and Finn had become step brothers.

Mr. Schue played favorites, and sometimes forgot that he was supposed to be the teacher, the _adult_. He should have been the one to make everyone practice, to organize their meetings, to organize their fund raising efforts, to be responsible. Instead, he let Rachel handle all that, ignored her attempts to push him to make an updated set list months before competitions instead of weeks, wasted the funds Rachel had worked hard to earn for them (and on a few occasions, took money out of her own bank account to pay for items they needed) and allowed the other's in the club to bad mouth her.

She should have been his favorite, she realized bitterly.

Instead, when she wasn't dating Finn, he treated her like...like he didn't like her, but knew he needed to keep her around if they had any chance of winning anything, since she was the glue that held the club together.

"He meant well, but living vicariously through Finn did him no favors," she finally said, "He was a person, with faults, and it's impossible to say how things would have ended up had he been with us."

"Or if we were still married," Terri added softly, looking towards the way they would continue walking.

June shoved a piece of blue hair behind an ear, and sighed, "I think I know how things would have gone if my husband were here. Terribly."

She looked up, and at Rachel, "I know you don't like me. Pretty much none of you do. I...I was_ born_ there. I'm trying my best. This isn't easy, even with Anne's help. We couldn't talk much, she didn't have a chance to really...deprogram me. I'm sorry for who I am, for what my family did. I am. But I can't change the past. I can't. If...if I could, I would have taken my children, and fled my Family to somewhere safe. But there was no where safe, I had no skills, no money, nothing. And I...it didn't occur to me that I could have left. I was ignorant of the outside world."

Rachel could practically hear the capitalization of 'Family'.

"And...and...if I wasn't so fearful of the world, if had anywhere to go, anyone to help me..." June stumbled out..."I would have poisoned Mother and Father and my husband, then taken my children and left" she spat out. Tears were trailing down her face. She closed her eyes, and allowed them to fall.

"Hindsight is twenty twenty," Terri said gently, "We all have things we would have done differently, if given the chance." She sighed, no doubt thinking about what changes she would make.

Rachel was ashamed of herself. She had just been thinking about how she was bullied and friendless, and here she was...not bullying, not exactly, but she_ was _cold and sometimes outright rude to this woman. June could not help her background, just like Rachel, and she _was_ making an effort to change herself, to rise about her indoctrination. Sometimes she stumbled, but she was trying.

Rachel stood up, and swiftly sat down on the ground next to June. Tentatively, she patted the woman's back. Terri joined her, sitting on the woman's other side.

The trio sat together while June cried quietly for a few minutes, before Rachel looked at the cheap all weather men's sport watch she'd gotten from the 'take what you want' supply room. "We need to get moving," she said gently, standing up.

June nodded, and wiped away her tears.

Rachel helped them both stand up.

* * *

Terri slammed her crow bar through the zombies eye, then pulled it out awkwardly moving to the next one.

June hesitated a moment, before bringing her bat down on the skull of the zombie closest to her.

Rachel hacked and slashed with her own crowbar and Quinn's machete. Her movements weren't as fluid as she would have liked, she noted as she dared a quick glance at her watch, because she was clearly out of dance practice, but they were fluid enough that she was able to work both weapons at the same time with an efficient enough ease, dropping the three zombies that she had taken on as Terri finished with her second.

June finished her zombie, which was the final one, and Rachel put away her weapons.

If there were any more lurking, by now a U.F.O would have appeared.

"We are roughly a block away from the crash," she panted, "Where there's a few zombies, there will be more, so let us go, get what we need, and leave quickly?"

A few minutes later, Rachel nodded, and Terri tossed the rock. They were far away from the crash site that she was hopeful if it did explode because of the rock, they would be alright enough.

It hit with a loud ping that made her wince internally, but nothing else happened.

"Maybe it's only set to go off if there's a human around it," Rachel murmured. She set down her rifle, preparing to do something that she would likely be yelled at for, when June stood up from the car they'd been crutching behind.

Without a word to either of them, June ran towards the fallen U.F.O. She stood next to it for a moment, then kicked at it.

Nothing happened.

"It's okay," she called. Her eyes widened, and the pointed, "Zombies!"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Rachel looked and sure enough a dozen zombies were approaching. Picking up her rifle, she stood up. "We'll hide behind the ship, and I'll shoot them. While I am doing so, you and June gather samples. Then we high tail it back. Perhaps in a vehicle if we can find a running one," she said coolly as she started jogging towards June, Terri a few feet behind her.

She set about getting into position as Terri relayed her orders to June.

She lifted the rifle to her shoulder, aimed, took a deep breath, and fired.

One zombie fell.

A thrill of satisfaction went through her as she aimed again. She was aware that in addition to the original dozen zombies, there were perhaps another two or three dozen coming.

She felt a little shaky as she looked at them, and required an additional breath before she fired again.

The bullet hit the zombie in the neck. It dropped, not permanently dead, but it was not coming towards them so she counted it, and moved swiftly to the next.

"Rachel, there's too many, we need to just go," Terri said, pulling her backpack on roughly.

"Did you gather any samples?" Rachel asked with a resigned sigh as she slung her rifle on, and turned towards them.

"A few. Hopefully it'll be enough?" Terri shrugged.

"There's more coming on this side," June said, the fear clear in her voice.

Rachel swallowed hard as she saw another three dozen zombies stumbling towards them from the back. At least that number.

She realized there was grinding noise, Terri did as well because she asked, "What's that noise?"

"Maybe someone is trying to distract the zombies so we can run away?" June asked hopefully.

"Perhaps..." Rachel clutched her backpack straps, biting her lip as she looked around them, going through their options. "No..." she whispered, then raised a shaking hand and pointed.

There was a zombie dragging a piece of metal pipe behind her -_it._ Rachel only knew it had been female before death because it was shirtless, and while one breast was gnawed away, the other was in perfect view. The rest of the zombie was grotesque, swollen and red, it's features totally unidentifiable.

This had been a foolish idea.

The apocalypse had thrust a greater responsibility on her shoulders, much greater then leading the Glee club or doing everything she could for an advantage for Broadway.

She was barely seventeen, and had been so full of herself that she had thought she knew better then the military personal and leader of the militia.

Instead, she had simply gotten the three of them killed.

Quinn was already teetering in a sharp edge, and Rachel knew that her death would send Quinn plunging.

So in truth, Rachel had gotten four of them killed.

The zombies seemed to sense her realization, and sped up.

And Rachel could do nothing. They had nowhere to run, no car to cower in.

They had nothing.

They were surrounded.

She closed her eyes, and dropped her backpack to the ground. "I'm sorry," she whispered. There wasn't even time to use the rifle to ensure they had a quick death.

They were going to be torn apart, and join the shambling hoards.

It was all her fault for thinking she knew better. For forgetting for all her intelligence, her natural maturity, her leadership, for the choices she has had to make, for the losses she'd suffered, that she was simply a seventeen year old girl.

"Rachel," June whispered, "Rachel, look."

She opened her eyes slowly, and caught Terri's gaze. The woman's harsh features were morphed into a look of confusion.

She dared to look at the hoard surrounding them.

Then she stared, frozen in place.

* * *

"Maybe you should have sent Lord Tubbington with them?" Santana frowned at the fancy watch she'd grabbed from the 'take what you want or need' supply room. It was taking Rachel, Terri and June longer than expected to get back. Santana was starting to feel a little concerned, and wished she'd goaded Rachel into taking Shawn instead of just being satisfied Rachel had agreed to take someone else besides her and Terri.

Brittany shook her head, and jabbed her long spear -the standard weapon used when walking the clobbered together fence, over the hood of a pink corvette into a snarling zombie's eye socket. "No, he's been off his game since Tiffany...since his tail was lost. And he really couldn't do much besides be a distraction anyway. I didn't think I'd have to train him to handle zombies."

"Maybe we could get him a job in the kitchen? Help him get his grove back."

"Maybe."

Santana sighed, and the silence was heavy until Tina joined them. She'd started to walk to the fence with her, but then excused herself to the bathroom. Probably to puke or pee, Santana guessed. Hell, maybe both.

Santana couldn't stop staring at her stomach.

Brittany had known. Of course Brittany had known. She had said it wasn't her secret to share, and she hadn't known longer then a day before Sam -then Santana, had found out.

Santana figured there had been a ton of denial on Tina's part, and probably worry about the baby.

Santana wished Brittany would suggest Santana make a baby quilt for little Clark or Diana. Or mention that she needed to find yarn to knit the perfect blanket.

_Something. _

She sighed quietly, then put on a smirk, and casually said to Tina, "Hey _Preggers._"

Tina flinched, and Brittany gave Santana a _look. _

Then Brittany caught eyes with Tina, who was looking like Brittany had utterly betrayed her and was one step away from crying.

She shoved down her annoyance that anyone but her was looking at her wife like that.

And they were married. It had been shoved to the way side with all the crap that had been happening, but they were.

They needed rings. Brittany had already had to fend off two well meaning suitors with a polite, "I'm married, sorry."

Santana hadn't been nearly as polite to the guy that had tried chatting her up.

Definitely had to get rings. Soon.

They'd given the selection of rings available here a courtesy look, but frankly, Santana didn't think any of them were good enough to go on Brittany's hand.

The ring that Santana had wanted to give Brittany -from the moment she'd seen it last year when she'd been helping her dad find a birthday present for her mom at Tiffany's, she'd _known_ it was the ring. It had diamonds set into a platinum band in a flower pattern.

It was amazing and perfect.

Santana had four credit cards, (technically her dad's cards and she was an allowed user) all paid off monthly by her dad without comments on some of her purchases.

She had a high limit.

Her dad trusted her not to go nuts and reach that thirty five hundred limit _ever _on_ any _of the cards.

The only reason she hadn't bought that ring was because she didn't have the two thousand dollars needed to make up for what she couldn't put on the cards.

The fact that her dad would have wondered why she was buying that ring, and wasn't wearing it hadn't occurred to her. Or that her family might have seen Brittany wearing it which would have opened up a can of worms she hadn't been ready to deal with. She still wasn't ready, kinda. She knew that they really should go to the meeting of the handful of not straight people that was held every week or so, but...despite being married to a _women_, that felt like admitting something. Which was dumb, she decided, and swore to herself they'd go at the next meeting. She made a mental note to ask Rachel, because of course the hobbit would know when it was.

That sixteen thousand dollar price tag was nothing now -they just needed to head a little ways into Chicago and go to a Tiffany's jewelry shop.

...She wasn't going to include any of the packaging for obvious reasons.

"Sorry Tina," she muttered.

Tina looked from Brittany, to her, then back again. "Wasn't Brittany. It was Sam," Santana added.

"Oh," Tina swallowed, looking down, before taking a deep breath. "I am not naming the baby after a comic book character. I know that much. It -_he, or she_, deserves to be named after a real hero. I...I always liked the name Hazel. After Hazel Lee. She was a Chinese American pilot in World War Two."

"I think Hazel is a great name," Brittany smiled.

Santana nodded, "Sam will too."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, and I don't want anyone else knowing yet okay?" Tina hefted up her spear, her face looking eerily similar to Rachel's after she'd found Santana's birthday gift to Quinn, "Let's finish walking the fence."

* * *

She couldn't stop thinking about Gina, Other Brittany, Janet, Margo, Alice, Ashley A, Ashley D, Amy, Marie, Kerri, Cara, Cora, Janice, and Hannah.

Cheerios.

Unlike with the New Directions, they had been a family. Quinn had known their names (she was sure some people would have been surprised for some reason about that) had met their parents (at one point Brittany had been convinced half the New Directions were robots Mr. Schue had built to have enough people to compete, give that only a handful of parents bothered to show up at shows, if that), had a relationship with them all in some form or another. The bi-monthly family dinners Sue held had certainly helped form that bond (although probably not as much as that time Sue had dumped them in the middle of the woods with nothing but some canteens, and knives and told them to meet her sixty miles away.)

That's what had made her a great captain. She had known each girl enough to know how they thought, had known their families enough to know that Amy's parents wouldn't allow her to go to practice if it was on a Sunday, because that was their family day. So Quinn never scheduled any practices on Sunday. Sue had actually listened to her when she explained why -Mr. Schue had never done that for Rachel.

Gina had been planning since freshman year on getting a Master's degree in accounting, and she preferred everything orderly and logical and did not like change much. She also came from a relatively poor family, and if it weren't for the Cheerio's huge budget that paid for everything, wouldn't have been able to afford being a cheerleader.

Ashley D. was on and off dating Rick the Stick, and the not so recent news Quinn had heard (via Santana) was they were off because he'd given her half the money for an abortion, then demanded it back when she miscarried just before the appointment. She had spent it on a leather purse instead, and told him to go fuck himself.

Hannah had thought being on the Cheerios was her key point into getting into Harvard (which Quinn had always thought was kinda silly, because her parents had went there too so that was her in.) She wanted to be a doctor, just like her parents. Her and Brittany had been friends since they were little -Quinn wondered if Brittany ever thought about her. Brittany had been the one to train her to be good enough to get on the Cheerio's in the first place.

That's what she did all day. She laid in bed, stared at the tent wall, and thought about Cheerio's.

She didn't think about Beth. Beth, or Tiffany or Sarah or Theresa or Kyle or Abby or Stevie or Dahlia.

Mack. Kurt. Faith. Marigold. Paisley.

So many more names.

Shelby.

She had a lot of blood on her hands.

She thought about Gina, Other Brittany, Janet, Margo, Alice, Ashley A, Ashley D, Amy, Marie, Kerri, Cara, Cora, Janice, and Hannah.

She thought about them, and she berated herself for ditching them. She hadn't given a single one of them another thought after she'd dropped out of the Cheerio's. Gina had even visited her house, to talk to her -Quinn had been closest to her after Brittany and Santana, despite the fact that Gina had been a bit bitter about Quinn winning Cheer Captain their sophomore year, but she'd gotten over it once she realized how much Sue had expected from her Captain.

Quinn had made some mean remarks about Gina being poor, then slammed the door in the other girl's face.

None of the Cheerio's except Santana and Brittany would talk to her after that.

They were a sisterhood, and Quinn had broken it with some mean comments. Mean comments weren't exactly new in the Cheerio's -but there were lines, and Quinn crossed them.

Then, the zombie apocalypse had hit, and Quinn hadn't tried to save any of them. They were all dead now, and that was Quinn's fault.

Just like her baby being dead was.

She stared at the wall, and she wondered why she was bothering to keep breathing.

The tent flapped opened, and Rachel stood there smiling brilliantly.

Quinn forced herself to sit up, and she stared at Rachel's blurry form. Even without her glasses on, she could make out the blood spattered on her.

Rachel. That's why. Rachel needed her -without her, Rachel would morph into some creature that was barely more human than the zombies. Being here, with a lot of people Rachel wasn't in charge of protecting would help, but still.

Rachel needed her.

* * *

"Quinn, Quinn the most amazing thing has happened," Rachel said, unable to keep the excitement or the volume down, "Terri and June and I went to the alien wreckage, and...there were a few zombies. Nothing unmanageable, but as we were preparing to deal with them we discovered that the wreckage, it acts as some sort of shield against them! The zombies do not approach the fallen ships!"

Rachel was lying about the number of zombies, of course -but Quinn was obviously dealing with a lot, and she wasn't going to tell the other girl just how closely Rachel had come to dying today.

And it had been very close.

_Very_ close.

But the zombies had simply stopped approaching, as if blocked by an invisible wall.

Through a bit of trial and error (that June insisted on being the test subject for) they had discovered that roughly double a football sized piece of the ship had been enough to ensure they could walk safely through the herd.

Rachel had shot the pipe carrying zombie. Then they attempted to find a vehicle that worked, which had taken quite a while. From there, it was a simple matter of driving around for a bit to lose any remaining zombies following them, then they drove as much as they could before they were forced to walk.

Reynolds had been absolutely incensed with Rachel, Terri, and June. Rachel was on permanent fence _cleaning_ duty (which was a moderately dangerous, and very very disgusting job of removing and burning the corpses that were gathered at the fences, brought down by guards) in addition to whatever group outings arise (having convinced the man that it was her idea alone and she'd blackmailed Terri and June into joining her -they had gotten off rather lightly with simply extra fence walking duty.)

She was fairly certain the only reason she hadn't been kicked off the base was the information they'd brought.

It could turn the tide of things with the aliens, make everything so much easier for the survivors. If even a fourth of a fallen sphere would be enough to protect their whole safe haven would be wonderful. That would mean less manpower walking and cleaning the fences, that meant more was available to grow fresh food and train.

Rachel excitedly babbled all this at Quinn, who slowly relaxed and, when Rachel finished with, "And Reynolds is sending an actual team out tomorrow to gather every bit of the sphere, and see if they can't figure out everything they can about it. Artie told Tina who told Brittany who told me that they contacted the other groups, and there was so much cheering."

Quinn gave her a small smile, and tentatively reached a hand out for Rachel's. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," Rachel leaned over, and gave Quinn a soft kiss, "I should go clean up, but I wanted to tell you the great news." Rachel frowned, then sighed as she pulled away, "Quinn, I think...I know this isn't easy, but despite this news, Reynolds, the doctor, they likely aren't going to allow you to just stay in bed for very much longer. There's a lot to do to keep this place running, and..."

"I need to do my share instead of being a useless invalid," Quinn said softly.

Rachel bit at her lip, "I wouldn't quite put it that way, but I believe their tolerance is waning. Nearly everyone has lost someone, and as such that's why there is near daily group therapy meetings and other ways to cope. "

"Tomorrow morning Rachel, I'll get up. I'll shower, and I'll come find you. "

"And you will eat first. I will be on fence cleaning duty unless we're being trained, but...perhaps I can find you a journal and a few helpful books, until you feel ready to attend one the meetings?" Rachel stared at Quinn, "Perhaps you should find Sarah first. She..." Rachel sighed, "She has expressed to both myself and Santana that you will be angry or upset with her for...being alive while Beth is not. Or that you shall blame her," she finished gently.

Quinn gasped. "I...haven't thought about Sarah at all. You didn't mention her, but...I just assumed she...she had died too...she hasn't visited me, it's pretty much just been you three and sometimes Artie, Sam, and Blaine."

"She's scared to do so now that you have woken up, but she did. Everyone, well, almost," Rachel shot Quinn an apologetic smile, "everyone is intent on giving you space."

"I...maybe you could send her in after you leave?"

"Of course. I am very sorry I did not realize you thought she was dead as well Quinn," Rachel apologized.

"It's not your fault Rachel," Quinn clutched Rachel's hand tighter.

Rachel reached her other hand up, and gently traced the healed scar on Quinn's face. "Have you had the doctor look at it yet?"

Quinn nodded, "'Said it healed as well as could be expected."

"I was correct. You are still breathtakingly beautiful."

At this, Quinn snorted. It was the first time Rachel had heard her even come close to a laugh in a while, "I think you're just biased Rachel."

Rachel shook her head, "No, no. Do I need to poll everyone?"

"And when," Quinn said dryly, "Will you have time to poll people?"

She swung the covers off herself, and stuck a long leg out and over the edge of the bed, the long men's t-shirt she wore riding up. Rachel found herself staring with a guilty blush.

Life, Rachel realized with a sigh as she watched Quinn get out of bed and do some simple stretches, moved on. Going forward was the only way you could go, people couldn't stop or go backwards.

Rachel would just have to help make sure Quinn realized that. You coped. You survived.

* * *

She felt like nothing. A dull cloak of entropy had settled on her shoulders.

It was good that the others had gotten them somewhere safe, with a competent leader.

Quinn wasn't a leader. She wasn't a good sister, good friend, or good girlfriend. She wasn't anything.

She wasn't a mother.

Sarah had shyly entered the small next near the medical tent Quinn had holed up in, holding Bacon and a small bag after Rachel had left then tent. Quinn had finished her stretching, then curled back in bed.

Sarah. God, sweet Sarah shouldn't have this responsibility on her. None of them should.

They were just kids.

The oldest among them -Santana, was _barely_ eighteen.

They should be planning a graduation party, and getting things ready to haul away to whatever college they'd gotten into.

Not fighting zombies and aliens of all things. She wasn't even sure Santana wasn't just playing a prank on her about the whole alien thing.

This was just wrong.

Quinn couldn't make it right.

She couldn't make anything right.

She could at least make Sarah feel better, "Hi Sarah. Can I get a hug?"

Sarah nodded, and suddenly Quinn found herself engulfed tightly in Sarah's arms, the poodle wiggling between them.

When she finally pulled away, Sarah smiled shyly at Quinn, and held out the bag, "Santana found someone's hidden stash of bacon jerky, and took all three bags. She saved one for you, said I could give it to you. She made a really bad joke about turning Bacon into jerky, too, but then I cried and she felt bad. It was fake crying though, Rachel's been teaching me a little acting because she wants me to help her with a prank against Santana. She still won't tell me what Santana did to her though. "

Quinn stared at the bag, tears welling in her eyes. She blinked them back, and smiled at Sarah. "Thank you." She pulled the top off, and opened it. Taking out a piece, she offered it to Sarah, who shook her head. "No thank you. I don't eat pig meat any more. I mean, there isn't really any...but if there was, I wouldn't eat it. Well, Rachel made me promise to eat it anyway if it was all we had, just like how she had to stop being vegan..."

As the younger girl babbled, Quinn carefully took a bite of the rejected bacon jerky.

It was delicious.

She finished the piece, then carefully closed the bag.

Every day she got out of bed, and did something productive, she'd let herself have a bite. She'd start today, now, instead of in the morning.

She'd get bacon, it'd last a while, and Rachel wouldn't worry so much. It was a good plan as long as she had the discipline to keep to it.

Quinn had never had a problem with discipline.

Lucy did. But Lucy had been dead for a very long time.

Letting Bacon lick her fingers, the poodle thumping his tail against the bed, she looked at the girl who was still babbling in a very Rachel way about the base and training.

"And I did four pushups! They were really hard and my arms were shaky. Sebastian only did three, and I did them faster than him too. He swore that one day he'd beat me, and was really upset with Blaine for betting against him. I hope they're not mad at each other..."

Quinn's smile came easy, "They aren't Sarah," until it faded away again and she looked at Sarah Puckerman seriously, "...Rachel told me that you...thought I'd be...mad or disappointed...that...?"

She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

She didn't have to.

Sarah looked down, and rubbed behind Bacon's ear, who had settled down on the pile of blankets next to Quinn, "Are you?"

"No Sarah. It wasn't your fault. At all. I could never be upset that you are alive and well, okay? I love you." Quinn licked her lips, and once more Sarah threw herself at Quinn, hugging her tightly. At least this time Bacon was out of the way.

"Why don't we get out of here? You can show me our tent?"

"Okay Quinn," Sarah beamed at her and scooped the poodle up off the bed as Quinn stood up, clutching the bag of bacon jerky.

There wasn't anything in here she needed to take with her, so she accepted Sarah's hand, and they walked out together.

The cloak of entropy was still there, but it felt like it had slipped off her shoulders a little bit.

* * *

They finished singing the Happy Birthday song to Sarah, Sarah was grinning happily. Rachel wished she could have organized a performance for Sarah's birthday, but she was kept quite busy between cleaning the fences, working in the gardens, latrine duty, and attending meetings while also tutoring Sarah and spending time with Quinn and the others. There simply had not been enough time for the practice they all sorely needed.

"That was great you guys, thank you," She said shyly, clearly not quite comfortable with all the people present at her birthday party.

Besides their group, a good portion of the warehouse's population had showed up -Sarah was the youngest person there, until Violeta gave birth, and apparently that was worth celebrating.

Perhaps it was.

It all the more incensed Rachel that Sarah was required to fight zombies with them.

True, the girl managed to kill two or three every time they were sent out.

But still, Sarah was a_ child._

They had been at the warehouse for five and a half weeks now. She was still being punished for the trip to the UFO, but Terri and June were off punishment and she was hopeful she would be soon as well, that it wouldn't actually be permanent.

Once she was, she was going to set up a campaign to get Sarah off the team. She was confident she would make Remolds see reason.

Hopefully he did so before Sarah was hurt.

She would never, ever forgive him if Sarah was injured or killed because he wouldn't listen to her. She had, after all, been right in examining the alien ship.

The team that had been sent -with trucks and a bulldozer to clear the path, had taken seven days to get to, collect, and return with the U.F.O. Then it had been flown to Iceland where scientists were busy examining it right now -a small chunk had been left here, and sent to the other three survivor groups for an emergency.

Sarah would mostly be receiving books for her birthday -Santana had made sure that anyone who was going to show up to Sarah's party had a long list of books they could try to find if they were inclined to bring her a gift. Santana had found a very sturdy pair of hiking boots for Sarah -about a size too big to give the girl room to grow. Brittany had knit several pairs of thick socks to take up the extra room until she did grow in to them. Rachel was planning on giving Sarah a very detailed guide book to Jerusalem -she would likely not be able to visit ever in her lifetime, and had expressed sadness at that fact, and a white gold necklace with a teardrop diamond pendent she'd grabbed from an expensive jewelry store on the outskirts of Chicago.

It had been worth roughly twenty five thousand dollars at one point.

Now it was near worthless, since it could not protect, feed, hydrate or house you…it's only worth now was how much it would make Sarah happy.

Sam had hunted down a bunch of toys and dog things for Bacon that Sarah had mentioned she'd wanted at some point, as well as a really nice looking Wonder Woman hoodie for her. Rachel had almost convinced him to get himself a really cool Ironman one he'd seemed interested in, but he'd just shook his head and left it, so she let it go.

She took it as a good sign that he'd at least considered it for half a second.

"Present time Sarah," Santana shouted, and handed Sarah a beautifully wrapped package. Wrapping paper and ribbon had not been in short supply, so it seemed, judging by the pile, that most everyone who had brought a gift had did their best to make it beautiful.

Quinn wasn't watching Sarah carefully unwrap her gift, she was staring at the ground.

Rachel reached over, and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. Quinn had been doing much much better, but still had her moments. Rachel was certain that was to be expected.

Quinn looked up, and shot Rachel a small smile. Still holding hands, together they watched Sarah unwrap her presents and excitedly thank whomever the gift giver was.

At Quinn's present -a framed drawing of Puck, Sarah, and their mother, Sarah stood up and ran over and gave Quinn a teary hug.

Sarah, like many people, did not have any photos of her family. There had been a beaten up and battered photo of the trio that Puck had kept in his sun visor -no one had thought to take it when they'd left the truck, and Sarah had been too traumatized to think about it. Santana had cursed when she realized that, while they had remembered to grab Artie's glasses from the glove box, she and Sam had both forgotten the photo.

Rachel was fairly certain she had learned several new curse words in Spanish.

Sarah hugged Rachel too, just because, then went back to the present table and resumed her present unwrapping.

The party was held outside, their group decorating an area with streamers and balloons. It was nice, and a lovely way to enjoy the sun.

"Thank you Mrs. Zhou!" Sarah called out, holding up a lovely knitted sweater that would be perfect next winter as it was big enough for Sarah to grow into. Grinning, she stood up, and darted to the Asian woman -who was shorter then Sarah, and hugged her.

As she was returning to the present table, a long shadow fell upon them.

There were screams.

Someone pointed up, and Rachel looked.

A large, large enough to block the sky, ship was slowly moving over them.

She gasped, and Quinn clutched her hand so tightly her nails dug into Rachel's skin.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter fought me every inch of the way when I managed to find time to write. But it's done now yay.

One chapter left! Artie! Kitty! Yay!

Please vote in my poll on my profile. It'll help me decide some things for the sequel. Every vote counts!

A lot of you are expressing disappointment that almost all the kids are dead and the issues that will lead to, and maybe you can't bring yourself to keep reading. I'm sure some of you have already unfollowed the story.

Please finish the final chapter before you make any hasty choices about continuing with the sequel or not.

If there's anything you want to see in the sequel, now is the time to mention it. I will take everything everyone suggests, along with the poll results, and see how they fit into my outline.


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